Escort
by Lucky Kutsick
Summary: Tim gets an opportunity that could make or break his career, but is he in over his head? Not only does he have to deal with a questionable op, he has to deal with his team. First multi-chapter fic.
1. Chapter 1

_Aloha! Thanks to everyone who reviewed my last story, _**Moving On**_. And special thanks to _Precious Pup, TechnoMistress, _and_ Maudlin Mush_! I loved everyone's ideas for the prompt, and if no one objects, I might eventually write stories for all the suggestions. However, Precious Pup's idea really stuck with me. My mind took it and ran, so it's actually going to be my first chapter piece. Hope it goes ok! _

_The prompt was: Place a character in a situation they would not normally be in._

_Disclaimer: I do not own any part of NCIS, including characters mentioned in the following story._

x.x.x.x.x

"McGee!" Three sets of eyes snapped up to the balcony above the bullpen.

"Yeah Boss?" the agent in question said tentatively.

"Director's office. Now." Gibbs stepped away from the railing and disappeared from view.

Two of the three pairs of eyes slowly turned to one stunned agent.

"Probie!" Tony said, "What did you do?"

"Yes, McGee," Ziva cut in. "Whatever you did it has Gibbs acting very… agitated."

"I didn't do anything!" Tim claimed. His brow furrowed as he stood and headed towards the stairs. "At least, I don't think I did." He climbed the stair and walked over to the door to the office. The secretary gave him an encouraging smile. He took a deep breath, mind racing, and knocked. He pushed the door open slightly. "You wanted to see me, Sir?"

The Director and Gibbs were both seated at the conference table. Vance looked up from a file he was looking over. "Agent McGee. Come in and have a seat." Tim cautiously made his way into the room and took a seat beside Gibbs. He gave his boss a questioning look, but Gibbs merely shrugged, giving nothing away. "McGee, have you heard of the Malloy Company?"

Tim couldn't see where this conversation would go, be he decided to go along. "Rich Virginian family: comes from old money. Owners of one of the largest international trade companies on the eastern seaboard. Most profitable product is the tobacco grown on the family's plantation."

"I see you follow the news as closely as the rest of us," Vance said. He slid a file across the table to Tim. The agent took the folder and flipped it open. He was greeted with a photo of a beautiful red-headed woman. "Connie Malloy. She is the head of the company. Ever since her father passed away last year, the company has become suspect in dealing with products other than tobacco and international goods."

"What are they after?" Tim asked.

Vance looked grim as he gave an explanation. "Military secrets." Vance picked up the monitor remote and brought up a new file. "This is ex-marine Paul Wallace. Dishonorably discharged in 2009 for alcohol use. A year later he resurfaced, arrested in Richmond Virginia. Went to court, paid his fine of 2,500 dollars, and dropped off map."

"What was the charge?" Tim asked.

"Prostitution." Tim stared at Gibbs, but couldn't think of anything to say. At least, nothing that would be appropriate. He ignored the snickering voice in the back of his mind – it sounded remarkably like Tony – and turned his attention back to the Director.

"How does he tie into the Malloys?" Tim asked.

"Apparently, Wallace didn't end his new career after his arrest. He found himself mixed up with a male escort service, one that has been known to deal in prostitution. His last mistress was none other than Ms. Connie Malloy." Tim nodded, but still didn't see the connection.

"Wallace always kept in touch with some of his Marine buddies, and a few of them had their careers slipping away as well. A leak in the Pentagon was discovered several months ago: turns out to be one of Wallace's friends. The leak pointed out several other leaks. Interestingly enough, all the names connected to Wallace. Wallace was arrested and taken into custody three months ago. However, the Pentagon is still worried about leaks."

"They think Wallace was working for Malloy," Tim said as he connected the dots.

"While no one is positive that Connie Malloy or anyone else in the family is directly involved, the secrets trade is definitely surrounding the company. The FBI has already been investigating the Malloy Company, but they haven't been able to get an undercover agent into the upper levels of the company or family. The one agent that did has been missing for four months." Everyone in the room gave a moment of silence in honor of the missing agent. "Now that the Navy has a connection, it's our turn to try. Thankfully, we've got a tip on how to get an agent close to Malloy herself, and I have picked just the agent to go undercover."

"That's good. What's the position, and who have you found to go undercover?" Tim asked, a knot beginning to form in his chest. Was this conversation going where he thought it was? No, he thought, pushing the hope back, it couldn't be. He was the geek, the tech guy: he would never be considered for undercover work.

"We've received word that Malloy is looking for a new escort to fill Wallace's place. With the right set up, we should be able to get our man in fairly easily," Vance explained.

The bubble of pride and hope in his chest popped. Suddenly he wished this conversation was going anywhere other than where he thought it was headed. "And the agent?"

Vance and Gibbs both stared at him. Tim's heart sank.

"You're joking…" he said blandly. He didn't even let himself become embarrassed, because he couldn't (or more likely, didn't *want* to) comprehend what the Director was asking.

"Agent McGee, I do not make it a habit to joke about assignments I send my people on," Vance said with an equally dry tone.

"But… but wouldn't Tony be better suited for this?" Tim asked softly, thinking of the older agent's antics.

The Director shook his head. "Agent DiNozzo may act like a college frat boy, but he can't fool the world forever. I'm not risking my agent's life because he didn't look young enough." Tim almost grinned as the Director almost insulted Tim's partner. Vance caught Tim's smirk. "You ever tell him I said that I'll have you in Cybercrimes for a month."

The grin slid from his face. "Yes, Sir." Suddenly it hit him what the Director was asking him to do. The blush crept onto Tim's face and he looked down. As he did so, he took note of his own body and grew self-conscious. "Even though Tony may not look as young as he thinks he does, I'm not exactly fresh out of college either. I know there are other agents that would look and act the part much better than I would."

Vance bit his toothpick, hard, and seemed to choose his words carefully. "McGee, I have two points to make. One, as strange as it is for me to say this to you, you're not that bad looking a man. You may not pass for a twenty year old, but you're not going to send women screaming in terror. Second point: I have plenty of agents with experience, but they lack the look of youth the mission requires. On the other hand, I have plenty of young agents who can play the part, but lack field experience. I need a balance between those two extremes. You see what I'm getting at?"

Unfortunately, Tim did see what he was getting at. An older agent would never be able to complete the op, and sending an inexperienced agent would be taking a huge gamble with a man's life. His shoulders slumped, but he nodded. "Ok."

Gibbs reached over and gripped Tim's shoulder. "What's wrong? You always wanted to go undercover. Here's your chance."

Tim shrugged, desperately trying to hide his discomfort from Gibbs. "I know. It's just, this isn't really my thing, you know?" He bit his bottom lip, thinking out his words before he said them aloud. "I'm just, not good at… at *that* sort of thing… and I'll probably screw the assignment up."

Gibbs raised his hand from Tim's shoulder and let it collide sharply with the back of his head. "Tim, if you weren't ready or capable of doing this, do you think I would have approved it?" Tim raised his head and looked at Gibbs with surprise. "Why do you think I was up here with Vance anyways?"

At this point Tim moved his eyes over to Vance. The Director shrugged. "You didn't think I was about to pull one of *his* agents out from under his nose without a warning, did you?" His voice held the hints of amusement.

Gibbs gave the Director gave Vance a hard look. "Not like you haven't done it before."

Vance looked as if he was fighting the urge to roll his eyes, but he showed no other reaction. "Yes, well, we all know how well that worked out." He turned his attention back to Tim. "I'll understand if you turn this assignment down, but understand, Agent McGee, another chance like this might not come up for a long while."

Tim looked back down at his hands. He knew that he should take the offer. Vance was right: if he turned this down, he might never get assigned undercover work. Not because another chance wouldn't come up, but because Gibbs would always think he wasn't ready. "So how do you propose that I get in?" he asked, signaling the two men he was accepting.

Vance nodded. "We'll discuss the details of your assignment when the rest of your team is present."

*That* made Tim's head shoot up again. "My team? You mean, I have to t-t-tell Tony about this?"

Gibbs, not quite as professional as the Director, did roll his eyes. "Ya think?" Tim didn't groan in protest, but his scrunch his eyes closed. Gibbs sighed. "Look, do you really want a repeat of what happened last time one of our team tried to hide an assignment?" Tim flinched inwardly. Yeah, he remembered what happened, and no, he most certainly did not want a repeat.

"Fine. Are we going to brief them soon?" Tim asked.

Vance nodded. "Just as soon as the FBI representative gets here."

Both Tim and Gibbs looked at Vance. "Why are they getting involved?" Gibbs growled.

Vance nodded. "The FBI has been trying to get someone inside the upper levels of the Malloy Company for years, with little to no success. Their agency has always suspected them of running a marijuana operation under the cover of the tobacco trade, but the Agency has never gotten enough evidence to tie it the operation to the Malloy's. They just want any Intel McGee can give them. Also, the NSA is involved solely on the Pentagon's insistence, due to the vital information at hand. While not a joint operation, we still need to keep them informed. Neither agency is interested in taking this case from us."

Gibbs nodded. He stood up and walked to the door. "Might as well go get DiNozzo and David." He let the door shut softly behind him.

Tim still wasn't sure if he made the right decision. He had just heard the Director admit that a man had already died for this case, and he really didn't want to make the body count higher. He jumped as Vance spoke to him again. "McGee, is it really that hard for you to accept the confidence of two of your bosses?"

Tim sighed. "I just can't help thinking that someone along the line made some sort of mistake."

"McGee, I became the Director of a Federal Agency, so I must not have made too many mistakes. And are you really going to accuse Gibbs of screwing up?" That hit Tim, hard. He kept his eyes on the table as Gibbs came back into the room. None of the men spoke until the rest of the team joined them.

"Hey! It's a party!" Tony said excitedly. "And look who else was apparently invited!" As he and Ziva made their way inside as a third person walked in a shut the door.

Gibbs chuckled. "Should have known you'd be the FBI contact, Tobias."

"Of, course," Fornell said as he sat down across from Gibbs. "When word came down the undercover agent was from Gibbs' team, no one else would to come."

Both Tony's and Ziva's eyes lit up at the word undercover. "We got an undercover case, Boss?" Tony asked, barely containing the excitement in his voice. Before the conversation could carry further, Vance dove right into the briefing. He explained the case to the rest of the team, but Tim tuned him out. He noted uncomfortably that Gibbs' eyes remained on his bowed head the entire time.

Tony's smile was wide at the end of the briefing. "A gigolo? That's the cover? Oh, this is going to be so much fun."

Vance shook his head. "Not you, Agent DiNozzo."

The corners of Tony's lips fell slightly as his eyebrows went up. "Not me?" His eyes drifted across the room to Gibbs. He started to laugh, his mouth curling upwards again? "Boss? Oh come on. Really? Boss, you've got some good looks: that silver hair is probably a real turn on for the ladies, but an escort?" His snickering dies off as Gibbs glared at him. Suddenly the entire group saw the answer. The older agent turned to stare wide eyed at his partner. "McGee? Really?" He was unable to keep the laughter from his voice.

Tim felt himself bristle at Tony's remark. "'What, Tony?" he said softly, with just a hint of his anger. "Think you'd be a much better choice than 'Probie'?"

While Tony was taken aback, he didn't hear the anger that Ziva did. "I am sure what Tony meant," the Israeli woman said gently, "is that he was surprised because we were not expecting-"

"Expecting what, exactly? That the Director would ask automatically ask Tony? Didn't expect that anyone would ever suggest that I do undercover work?" Tim wasn't sure why he was getting so defensive, but something about the way Tony and Ziva had looked when they found out he was the undercover agent rubbed him the wrong way. He was about to say something else (as was Tony) when two resounding smacks echoed through the room.

"Thank you, Boss," the two younger male agents said, rubbing the backs of their heads.

"Can we get on with it?" Fornell said, un-phased.

Vance nodded at the FBI agent. "Certainly. A week from now, there's going to be a banquet of sorts at the La Cygne hotel in Alexandria, Virginia. The event is held every year, and is a dinner for escorts and their handlers to meet potential customers. Thankfully, this event caters to those looking for long term escorts, so if we can get McGee in, his position will be secure for a while. This is where Malloy met Wallace, and this is where we'll make sure she meets McGee. His connections within the Navy will hopefully get her attention. Until that night, McGee, you need to learn anything you can about Malloy. Find out her interests and exploit them." Tim nodded. "Gibbs, you and David will work on building McGee's cover. DiNozzo and Fornell will coordinate the surveillance for that night. Also, we need to get McGee's handler set up for undercover."

Ziva looked confused. "Wait, his handler will be going undercover as well?"

Tony rolled his eyes. "Not his handler as in his agency contact, his handler as in his owner. You know, his pimp?" Ziva gave a silent "oh" and nodded. "So, who's going to be Probie's owner?"

Vance turned and looked at Gibbs. This time it wasn't Tony that burst into snorts of laughter. Everyone present turned to stare at the FBI agent. "Find something amusing, Tobias?" Gibbs asked with a growl.

After one last chuckle Fornell managed to curb his laughter. "Nope. Not a thing, Jethro." He allowed an evil smirk to remain on his lips. Gibbs glared, knowing that later he was going to receive more than his fair share of teasing from his old friend.

Vance shook his head at the odd relationship between the two elder agents. "Alright people, we've got exactly one week to get this op underway. Get to work."

As everyone got up to leave, Tim sat in silence for a moment. What the hell had he gotten himself into?

x.x.x.x.x

_Reviews are appreciated. It makes me feel good when I know what I did well and what I need to work on._


	2. Chapter 2

_Yay for me updating the next day! I have most of the story written/planned, so updates should be too far in between. Thanks everyone for the reviews so far! _

_On a bad note, however, I got my first flame... It hurt but I quickly got over it when I saw all the wonderful things written by others! I must tell you all this one thing: I believe the best way to deal with people like my Troll "Grace" is to remember the slogan "Don't feed the Trolls", so from now on I won't mention or address any Trolls that send flames. _

_So, now that I have that unpleasantness out of my system... onto the story!_

_Disclaimer: I do not own any part of NCIS, including characters listed in the following story._

x.x.x.x.x

Tim stood right outside the doorway, steeling himself for the unpleasant conversation he was about to have. It was the morning after he had found out about his assignment, and now he had to explain the situation to one very demanding scientist. He stared at the two containers in his hands and vaguely wondered if his offerings were enough.

"McGee, I know you're out there!" a voice called out above the heavy music.

He sighed and walked into Abby's lab. He held his hands behind his back and approached the Goth "Hey Abby," he said, trying to sound as normal as possible.

She said nothing, but turned from her computer to face him. She gave him a neutral look and held out her hands. Tim brought his hands around in front of him and handed her the extra-large Caf-pow! and chocolate cupcake. She took both and set them down on the counter, not giving either a second glance. Abby placed her hands on her hips and stared at Tim. "Well?" she said expectantly.

Tim tried to play dumb. "Well what?"

She gave him a look that said 'really'? "You stood outside my door for ten minutes, come in bearing obvious peace offerings, and look like you're scared I'm about to eat you alive!" She studied him a moment, her eyes softening. She wrapped her arms firmly but gently around his waist and pulled him close. "What is it, Timmy?" she asked softly. "You know you can tell me anything."

Silently Tim scoffed. _Of course I can *tell* you anything,_ he thought. _The problem is I have no control over how you react to what I tell you._ Aloud, he said, "I know that. It's just… hard to say."

Abby gave him a sympathetic look. "Bad news?" She sounded worried.

"Not bad," Tim said, avoiding looking at Abby's eyes.

"Then what is it?"

He cleared his throat. "I… yesterday I accepted an assignment from Vance."

Abby's eyes went wide, and she pulled back slightly so she could look him full in the face. "You're not going back to Cybercrimes, are you? Cause that was a terrible thing for the team! I mean, you were still here, like, on the base, and not gone like Tony and Ziva, but it wasn't the same! You're a field agent, not a computer nerd to be locked away in the basement! Oh my God! You're not leaving, are you! Did you get transferred? I would rather you be downstairs than gone from the base! Did Vance force you into this! I swear, I'm going to-"

"Abby!" Tim cried, grabbing the Goth from her panicked ranting. "I'm not going to Cybercrimes, I'm not being transferred, and Vance didn't force me to do anything." He took a deep breath, knowing she wasn't going to like this. "However, I am going to be gone for a while."

There was silence from the other party. Slowly, Tim removed himself from Abby's embrace, ready to defend himself when her attack began. He watched her eyes closely, waiting for a signal from her. "You're… leaving?" the forensics queen whispered. Suddenly her browns snapped together. "No, you're not."

Tim cringed. "Not what, Abby?"

She frowned at him, and then turned back to her computer. "You're not going anywhere. You're going to stay right here, with me. Vance can't just send you away like he did last time. Like he did with Tony and Ziva! I'm going to give him a piece of my mind, just you wait! He knows, like every one, that I can kill without leaving evidence, but by the time I'm done he'll *wish* I killed him! No one can force my Timmy to leave if he doesn't want to!"

Tim reached out and grabbed Abby's shoulder's, forcing her to face him. "Abby! Did you even listen to what I said?" he asked her, keeping his voice soft and calm. "Vance. Didn't. Force. Me. He offered the assignment, and I accepted."

Abby looked at Tim defiantly. "So what is this assignment that you weren't forced (but obviously tricked) into taking?"

The agent unconsciously let his full bottom lip stick out even further than normal. "I wasn't tricked, Abby! I was offered an undercover assignment, and I accepted it! You know how long I've wanted to go undercover!" Tim reminded her. Of course she knew, whenever the subject of their careers came up, Tim always confessed that he wished he could go undercover. While he had made the mistake of telling Tony his desire once, Abby never made fun of him for it. She was always the understanding friend, encouraging him not to give up on his hopes.

Yet now, now that he finally got what he wanted (granted, not exactly what he had in mind), she was looking at him with shock and a trace of anger. "Vance is sending you undercover?" she said, her voice steady.

"Yes," Tim nodded.

"Why?"

He blinked. Why? What the hell kind of question was that? "Because, he needed someone to go undercover," the agent said evenly.

"Does Gibbs know?"

"Yes! He approved it!" Tim said exasperated. What was wrong with her? It almost seemed… Tim's face fell as the thought hit him. It was as if she was *upset* about his assignment. "Abby, is something wrong?"

Suddenly she pulled out of her mood. The Goth flung her arms around her friend. "Nope! Not a thing! My Timmy is finally getting some recognition and is getting what he always wanted! I'm happy for you!" She squeezed him tightly then let go. She spun around, grabbed the cup of Caf-pow!, and sucked on the straw, now ignoring the confused agent standing next to her.

"Abby," Tim said, a bit more loudly than he had spoken moments before. "Abby, do you not want me to take this assignment?"

Abby shook her head. "Of course not, McGee! This is what you want, so I'm happy for you!"

He frowned at her. "Abby," he said in a low voice, "what aren't you telling me?"

"It's nothing!"

He hated playing this game with Abby. Either she was direct and told you what she wanted, or she would keep it hidden from you. Tim, however, could read Abby too well. "It's not nothing!" he insisted. "You just went from sulking and saying I couldn't do this to being all happy for me! It's not nothing!" When she said nothing, he knew that his suspicions were correct. "You don't want me to do it." It wasn't a question.

"You want to do it, so you should," she told him in the same happy tone, but she refused to look at him.

Tim closed his eyes in frustration. "That's not the point," he said quietly. He turned and walked to the door. "I'll see you later," he mumbled, more out of habit than anything, for he had no intentions of returning to the lab that day.

Before walking to the elevator, he paused outside the door. He counted down under his breath, "Three, two, one…"

"Gibbs! Gibbs! Gibbs!" Abby cried. "I need you! Yes, now! Yes, it's important! Hurry and get down here, Gibbs!"

Tim shook his head and walked over to the elevator, climbing inside the thankfully empty car. He pressed the button for the squad room and then let himself lean back against the wall. He hoped the rest of the day didn't go like that. He straightened himself as the doors dinged and slid open. Tim stepped out just as Gibbs stepped forwards. The younger agent looked at his boss and said, "Just make sure she understands that it's my decision."

Gibbs looked confused for a moment, but then he understood. He said nothing, just shook his head as the doors shut. Tim walked to his desk, hoping to quietly slip into his chair to work. No such luck.

"Good morning to our new ladies' man!" Tony cried out in a singsong voice.

Tim reacted like he normally did when Tony began taunting him: he ignored him. He sat down and started up his computer, already running the programming needed to set up a search for anything he could find out about Connie Malloy. Before he could get too far into his work, however, he was startled as something slammed onto his desk top. Confused, he picked up a very old and worn book. Curiously, he read the title. He scowled, and then turned that scowl to the agent standing over his desk. "_The Art of Wooing?_ Really, Tony?"

The older agent grinned his trade-mark DiNozzo smile. "A buddy of mine gave it to me in college. It can teach a man everything he ever needs to know about flirting and seduction."

The younger man snorted. "More like teaches you cheesy pick-up lines and how to get out unnoticed after the one night stand."

"Hey," Tony snipped, pointing a finger at his partner. "Don't devalue the morning-after escape! Do you have any idea how difficult it is to find all your stuff, get dressed, and make sure you haven't left anything behind all before she wakes up? It's a challenge, my friend, one that many men can never conquer!"

Tim shook his head and tossed the tattered book back to Tony. "Thanks, but no thanks. I think I'll do just fine in life without ever reading that."

Tony chuckled. "Fine, if you won't read, then I'll just have to give you the abridged, verbal edition."

"Verbal edition of what?" Ziva asked as she gracefully strode into the bullpen.

"Trust me on this, Ziva," Tim said darkly, "when I say you don't want to know!"

She gave him a sympathetic look. "Tony is trying to give you 'woman' advice, yes?"

Tim gave her a smile. "You know him so well."

"Tim! I am trying to help you!" Tony said with only slightly exaggerated annoyance. "You're going under cover as a man of seduction and pleasure, and as NCIS's resident ladies' man it is my duty to teach you in the finer points of female attraction."

"Tony, I am sure that whatever *advice* you plan on giving McGee is not exactly appropriate for the office," Ziva said bluntly.

"Besides," Tim retorted, "I have to get on Malloy's good side and stay there for a long time. While I concede the fact that you are the master of one-time dates, your advice doesn't cover long term relations." Because he was focused on his computer, Tim didn't the flash of emotion in Tony's eyes, showing just how deep the words had cut the older man.

To cover himself, Tony turned to Ziva. "So, where have you been this morning?" he asked the former Mossad agent.

"I was working on building McGee's cover," she replied. She stood and walked over to Tim's desk, placing a file before him. "Read over this, it's what Gibbs and I could come up with for you. Everything up till you leave Hopkins is the same. All we changed was you name."

Tim pulled the file towards him and began reading. He glanced over the name. "Timothy Malcolm?"

"It's easier to keep your first name the same," she told him simply. "After graduating from John Hopkins you took small computer related jobs here and there. Later you settled down with one company as a computer programmer. However, you fell to a gambling addiction, and your life changed. Two years ago Gibbs found you, pulled you from your helplessness and trained you as a new escort. The details are in that file. Learn them before the banquet next Monday."

Before Tim or Tony could comment, the elevator ding and Gibbs returned from the lab. The three younger agents all exchanged worried glances at the irritated expression on Gibbs face. The lead agent went to his desk and located his coffee cup. Feeling it was almost empty, he drained the cup before moving back to the elevator, muttering something about a coffee run. The three agents remained silent until the doors had once again slid shut.

"Man," Tony said in a hushed voice. "I don't think I've ever seen Gibbs that frustrated coming back from Abby's!"

"Yes, it is strange…" Ziva muttered, but she noticed the odd loo that came across Tim's face. "Would you have any idea what would make Gibbs looks as if he is going to blow a basket?"

"Blow a gasket," Tim corrected without thinking. "And… I have no idea what could make him annoyed with Abby." From the way her eyes narrowed he knew she didn't believe him. Oh well, wasn't her business anyways. He stood quickly and stretched. "I'm going to grab a snack from the break room. Either one of you want anything?" Both answered with no's, so he took off. Instead of heading to the break room, however, he went behind the stairs. He leaned against the wall and sighed.

Of course he knew what was wrong with Gibbs. The lead agent was about the only person who supported him in this whole arrangement. Of course the man would probably get annoyed with the ever persistent Abby and her reaction to Tim's assignment. The agent sighed. There wasn't anything he could do about it, so he would just have to get ready to go undercover. He headed to the break room, thinking some nutter-butters do him some good, when he heard two recognizable voices behind him.

"-not right!" he heard Tony exclaim. Tim froze, knowing that the others had to be right around the corner.

"How?" Ziva answered, slight irritation in her voice. "How is it not right? Explain that to me!"

"I'm the Senior Agent!" Tony said in a huff.

"And what does that have to do with anything?"

"I'm supposed to do this sort of thing," he answered immediately. "I'm the one that goes undercover, I'm the one who takes those risks, and I'm the one with the experience to handle those risks!"

"You do not think Tim can handle himself?" Ziva asked, a hard edge to her voice.

Tony paused. Tim waited, holding his breath. He shouldn't be listening to this! …but, now that he was, he had to know. Finally Tony sighed. "Well, no, that's not it."

"Then what is it, Tony?" Ziva demanded. "Obviously something bothers you about Tim going undercover? Perhaps it is not the fact that you feel you have a duty to perform, but that you think you could do a better job than your partner, yes?"

"No… Maybe… Well, don't tell me you haven't thought the same thing! I mean, this case relies on something I do, and do well! I know how to get on a woman's good side! I can talk, charm, flatter, use the simplest of means to get a woman to react! McGee… let's face it, he doesn't have too much experience *or* confidence in that arena!"

"So you are jealous?"

Tim cringed as he heard the coldness in her voice, and the responsive growl from Tony. "Perhaps! But ever one is entitled to feel jealous now and again!"

"How can you be jealous over this?" Ziva asked. "Tim deserves this chance, and we owe it to him to give him our full support!"

"You know," Tony huffed, "you're being awfully accusing here. So, what about you? How are you reacting to this whole thing?"

Ziva paused. "I… I think that we need to support Tim through this assignment so that-"

Tony cut her off. "That's not what I meant and you know it! You all "peaches and cream" with everything?"

"What does fruit and dairy products have to do with anything!"

"It's an expression, Zi-va! But you can't tell me that you're perfectly fine with everything that's going on!"

"_Leazazel," _she cursed under her breath. "Fine! I think that Tim has not had a chance to prove himself, and now is that chance. For now I shall treat this as I would any other mission. If he can't handle it… then we shall see."

That was enough. Tim didn't want to hear anymore. With his head hung, he slunk away, Tony voice following him down the hall. "Yeah, then we'll see."

Tim went to the break room and sat down in a chair. Abby's lack of support he could handle. He had even expected it. The betrayal (he couldn't think of a better word) of his partners hurt deep. He thought Tony would be a bit nervous for him, but that his "brother" wouldn't begrudge him this opportunity. And Ziva! Was she really going to treat this whole thing like she was working with an associate of hers? Her last words "then we'll see" sounded as if she was ready to abandon him the second he failed. He rested his elbows on his knees and cradled his head in his hands. If that's how his friends, his team, felt about him taking this mission, then maybe it was better not to go through with it.

No, he thought. Vance thought he could do this. *Gibbs* thought he could do this. Tim had always placed his confidence in Gibbs, and now Gibbs was returning it. He couldn't let the man down.

"Gibbs, I hope you're right about me," he said to himself. "Let's prove them wrong."

.-.-.

For the rest of the week the team prepared for the banquet. Tim had the most to do, from learning his somewhat new identity, to arranging for his personal life to be taken care of. No one knew exactly how long this op would last, but if all went well Tim could be undercover for months. He heard no more downing language from Tony or Ziva and surprisingly both tried to help however they could. While Tony still tried to give Tim flirting advice and Ziva kept her professional manner, they didn't say anything to bring Tim down (or – on Tony's part – no more than usual). He was suspicious – had they found out he had heard them? – but he tried not to question it. He was just glad they were there for him.

That was more than he could say for Abby. She was flat out avoiding him. Gibbs wouldn't tell Tim what had happened between Abby and him, and the one time Tim went to see her she ignored him. He felt bad. He wanted to talk to her so bad! She was one of his closest friends, and probably one of the only people who could understand the mixture of fear and excitement filling his mind. He mostly wanted to talk to her to say goodbye. If he really was going to be undercover for months, he might not be able to contact her. It hurt to think that their last words to each other were clouded by anger and fear.

The days past swiftly and when Saturday came Tony surprised Tim by taking the younger man out to a bar. He was even more shocked when he saw Ziva, Jimmy, and Jimmy's fiancé Breena sitting at a quiet table. While no one gave a reason for the gathering, Tim was grateful. They had a good time drinking and talking the night away: old memories were brought back up, and new jokes were made. Later that night, when Tim lay down to sleep, he fell asleep thinking of his friend. Jealous and doubtful though they were, he knew Tony and Ziva would always have his back. As the darkness of sleep claimed him, a small smile settled on his lips.

x.x.x.x.x

_Thanks for reading! I appreciate reviews! _

_On a quick side note, I received the prompt for December's meeting: Partner up and appoint your partner a detail from and episode/story and have your partner "expand" that detail._

_My partner assigned me a detail is from the episode "Baltimore". 100 points to whoever guesses the detail!_


	3. Chapter 3

_Aren't you all glad I had time over break to write out my story? Means I can update fast! Thanks to every one for the feedback, and I hope the story is living up to your expectations so far._

_I have nothing else pressing to say, so lets get to the story. _

_Disclaimer: I own no part of NCIS, including characters mentioned in the following story._

x.x.x.x.x

Tim stood straight backed, not leaving the spot Gibbs had put him in. The bright light on his corner was starting to make him sweat, and he nervously pulled at the cuffs of his shirt. He was dressed simply in black slacks and a white dress shirt. The collar and top button had both been left open, revealing the smooth skin underneath. He watched nervously as men and women, dressed in their best clothes, walked around the room, studying each of the escorts.

He, along with 26 other men, was standing at the edge of a large banquet hall. He watched as the patrons wandered around the hall, sipping drinks, conversing with each other, and looking over the escorts. It was with a morbid sense of curiosity that he watched how different people interacted with the men being put on display. Many simply looked. They would stand in front of one man, judging him, letting their eyes roam over the man before moving onto the next "display". Others would talk to the escorts. They would flirt, laugh, see how forward they could be before the escort's handler became agitated. Tim couldn't decide which type of buyer bothered him more. The gazers bothered him by making him feel un-human. In their eyes, he wasn't a person, merely a toy, a product that they could buy with enough money.

He feared the talkers even more. These patrons were the one who made him nervous. He had to answer them, had to flirt back, had to be someone he wasn't. _Guess that's the whole point of being undercover,_ he thought ruefully. The worst part, he was finding out, was that he seemed to _attract_ the talkers. He had already been approached by four different women and (to his discomfort) two men. While he was flattered in a strange way, it still made him sick to know that these people were interested not in dating him, but _buying_ him!

He tore his eyes away from the man studying the escort next to Tim and scanned the room. Finally he found the two women he was looking for. Ziva was sitting at a table, sipping a glass of some red colored liquor. She had her hair pulled back into an elegant bun and was dressed in a dark blue dress. Gibbs had placed her in the room to keep an eye on both Tim and himself, send feedback to Tony and Fornell in the surveillance van, and to try and steer Connie Malloy to Tim. She was chatting with said woman now. Tim studied Connie apprehensively. The picture he had seen really didn't do the powerful business woman justice. Even though Connie was well into her 40's – actually, she was 47 – she still had a kind of graceful beauty about her. Her frame was about average height, only an inch or two taller than Ziva, but she was more filled out than the Israeli. The hips underneath the burgundy dress were wide set, but the waist was smaller, giving her the craved after 'hourglass' figure. Her face was a graceful oval shape which her long, dark red hair accentuated perfectly on each side. Her eyes were a deep hazel color, and her small mouth had a delicate red hue. The only signs of her age were the soft lines radiating from the corners of her eyes and mouth. Where the wrinkles may have infinitely aged some women, Connie's lines merely added to her grace. For a second, Tim had to wonder why a woman like her – one who had money, intelligence, and beauty – had to resort to having an escort.

His thoughts were cut off as he noticed a woman standing in front of him, staring intently. Her black hair was pulled sharply into a strict braid, and she wore slacks instead of a dress. Her face was thin and sharp, and she looked anything but welcoming. Tim wanted to shudder under her cold gaze, but he knew he couldn't. Instead, he smiled, curving his lips softly. He hooded his eyes and said nothing, waiting till the woman spoke first. He wasn't sure if he was grateful or when she kept silent and instead placed her hand on his chest, trailing her fingers across the muscles under his shirt. He couldn't stop the uncomfortable shiver that went through him as she brushed at the small patch of skin showing through the clef at his collar. He had to stop himself from letting out his breath in a huff as the hand left his chest. The small voice Tim had compared to Tony was laughing hysterically at Tim's inner embarrassment.

He watched as the woman crossed to the middle of the room before taking a seat at a table with only one other person. The only part of this night Tim was enjoying was watching Gibbs deal with perspective buyers. It was amusing to see Gibbs play the part of the calculating and smooth handler. He had purposefully turned down each patron that had approached about Tim, knowing that they had to, as Tony said before coming here, "wait for the right lady."

He gave a small smile as the latest buyer stood up from Gibbs' table, giving him a death glare. The smile slid from his face as she sent a glare his way. "Your man better watch out." Tim jumped slightly at the glossy voice that came from next to him. He looked to his right and tensed ever so slightly. Connie Malloy stood next to him, delicately holding a glass of champagne, her eyes tracking the woman Gibbs had dismissed. "That's Sierra Connors, widow of the late Senator Connors. She holds a lot of sway over several of her late husband's political lap dogs. You should tell your boss to be careful if he doesn't want his business to be busted."

Tim smiled a small grin at the woman. "I do believe my handler is well versed with dealing with a woman's scorn."

Connie gave Tim her own playful grin. "Oh really?"

"Yes ma'am," Tim's grin grew bigger, knowing that his testament held truth. "Three ex-wives."

"Hmm," Connie pondered. "It sounds like he knows how to hook a woman at least." She turned to face him. Tim found himself pulled to her rounded hazel eyes. "I suppose he taught you all the tricks to the trade?"

Tim chuckled. "Yes, he and his boys," he said as he thought of Tony's advice that had been almost shoved down his throat for the past week.

Connie held his gaze for a few seconds, searching their depths. Tim knew what she was doing, and wanted desperately to look away, but he knew he couldn't. Instead, he pulled the same trick, widening his eyes ever so slightly, letting her get lost in his eyes. Eventually she released his gaze. "You are fairly new to this, aren't you?"

Tim grinned with chagrin. "Yes, ma'am. Do I show it that much?"

She chuckled and motioned to Ziva with her glass. "I must admit that I did hear from Miss Ziva that she was your first…," she let the words linger on her lips, drawing them out as she playfully sought her next word,"… employer." Connie said the last word with a teasing tone. She laughed. "Unfortunately, you do show your inexperience. Most buyers might not notice, but this is not my first purchase." She let her eyes roam down his body. "You're hands are not fidgety, but they do seem to want to be occupied. Your eyes dart around the room, looking at everything. You lick your lips, not being able to help it. But most importantly, you try to think too hard about what to say and do." She gently brushed her fingers against his. "You are inexperienced in the art of seduction, but you have potential."

Tim let his fingers graze against the back of her hand that remained so near to his. He noted with satisfaction that she almost leaned into the touch. Apparently Tony's advice wasn't completely useless. He remembered his research and that Connie was well educated and loved literature, and used that to his advantage. "'The heart is forever inexperienced,'" he quoted.

Her smile grew wider. "Thoreau! I'm impressed. Handsome, well dressed, and well educated: an unusual combination." She let her eyes roam over him again, before coming back to his eyes. "What is your name?"

Tim licked his lips again, this time aware of the action, and made that she noticed. "Tim, ma'am."

"Tim," she said, the name falling softly from her lips. "Just Tim?"

"Timothy, actually," he told her truthfully.

"Hmm, what would you rather be called?" she asked.

He grinned coyly at her. "Milady may call me by whatever name pleases her."

"Such a gentleman," she said softly, leaning into him. He remained still, allowing her to come closer. "I think Tim will do. Timothy sounds too boyish. Inexperienced you may be, but you are obviously not a boy." He shivered as her breath came warm across his neck. She lingered in his space for a few more moments, as if judging to how he would react. When he made no move towards her, she nodded in approval. Tim was glad his research into her life had paid off. He knew that she didn't like others to approach her first unless she gave permission.

She backed off and turned from him. "You are new, and that is not something that I usually appreciate. But I have been waiting for a challenge." She looked over her shoulder and smiled at him. "It seems if I am to have you, I will be faced with several challenges: the first being your handler." She let her fingers run down his arm before walking away from him, headed towards Gibbs. Tim let out the smallest of sighs, somewhat relieved to have her out of his presence. She was an intense woman, and she slightly scared him. On the other hand, he found himself strangely drawn to her. The longer he had talked to him, the less he felt like he was pretending to be a man he wasn't. He shook his head: no, it wasn't her; he was just becoming comfortable with his roll. He grinned as a sudden thought hit him. She was going after him, talking to Gibbs about buying, and she wasn't even aware of his connection to the Navy. He had attracted her all on his own. His sudden bubble of pride was shot by a second thought. Tony would never believe him.

.-.-.

Gibbs watched as Connie swayed her way over to him. He smirked as he watched Tim, over her shoulder, let go of his breath. The kid had done well. Now it was time for Gibbs to do his part. He took a drink from his bourbon lowball as she sat across from him.

"I see you finally made your move," he said lightly. Her brows rose; a silent question. He chuckled. "You've been watching my boy half the night. As soon as you arrived, your eyes went to every escort. You watched a few of them, but they were all quickly dismissed. You made it to Tim and you never looked away."

She grinned at him. "I see your observant, Mr.-?"

Gibbs inclined his head and raised his drink to her. "Leroy. Just Leroy."

She smiled and raised her glass to him as well. "Connie Malloy, but please, call me Connie. I've never seen anyone bring such an inexperienced escort here before."

Gibbs shrugged. "Needs to earn his stripes somehow."

"Hmm." She narrowed her eyes at him. "Even so, you turned down several buyers tonight. Why be so picky with a youngster like Tim?"

He sniffed and took another drink. "I don't like the way some people treat their escorts."

Malloy kept her eyes narrowed, but she let her lips twist into a seductive grin. "That doesn't answer my question Leroy."

"In a way it does," he said evenly. "I don't like men or women that think that because they purchased someone for their skill, that they have the right to mistreat that person. I train my boys to be charmers, seducers, not slaves."

"Such a humanitarian," Connie said. He couldn't tell what emotion it was that underlay her words.

He shrugged. "It's been shown that people who enjoy their work are willing to work harder. Why should my business be any different?" He looked over at Tim, who was uncomfortably flirting with a male buyer. He grinned, thinking of the jokes Tony would have thrown at the younger agent: the Femglow incident was forefront in his mind. "Now, to answer your direct question: I have developed a soft spot for Tim. He may be new, but I see his potential." While "soft spot" was a stretch, the second statement wasn't a lie. He really did see potential in Tim. He saw a young agent who had already grown so much, and who continued to learn and change. "He has a way about him that makes me protective of him. I want to break him, yet build him up at the same time."

Connie had turned her gaze to Tim as well. "I understand. It's his inexperience that draws me to him. I want to have him learn with me; I want teach him. He may be young, but I saw the age within him; an old-soul feel, if you will. "

Gibbs gave her a smirk. "I'm sure it's not just his mind and soul you're after," he commented dryly.

Connie returned his wiry grin. "I must admit, I do have a liking for tall, lithe men," she commented just as dryly. Then her lips shifted into a more predatory look. "Those full lips don't hurt either." She turned back to Gibbs, and he recognized the face a business woman ready to deal. "What contracts do you have on him?" she asked.

Gibbs understood. "Short term: a day to two weeks. No overnights"

"Long term?" she asked to Gibbs relief.

"If you can convince me, up to a month."

She pursed her lips. "Do you sell indefinitely?"

Gibbs stared her down. He let go the cool indifference and let a toned down version of his glare show through. "Like I said: if you can convince me."

She returned his glare, but it was nothing compared to his own. "You prices?" Without saying a word he pulled a folded paper from inside his jacket and slid it across the table to her. She accepted it and began to read. Gibbs studied her face as she studied the paper. In a way he was impressed by how she could go from playful and seductive to all business. After a few minutes she looked up. "Contract six, but lowered by $6,000."

She had chosen a month long contract. "I'll lower Two."

She smirked at his counter offer. "Five."

"Two."

She grinned as they got closer to a compromise. "Four."

Gibbs let the glare grow stronger. "Two."

She tried to stare him down, but all she succeeded in doing was meet his glare with her own. When she saw he wasn't cracking, she chuckled, breaking the tension. "I see you like to be in control just as much as I do."

Gibbs shrugged. "What I like is a profit."

Connie looked over at Tim with a pondering look. "As I mentioned before, Leroy, I'm taking him even though he's not my normal purchase." He turned back to him. "With that said, here's my offer. I take him home tonight, I spend the day with him tomorrow, see how much training he needs, and he escorts me to the charity luncheon I'm attending. I'll pay for those services with your hourly charges, and I'll pay upfront tonight. If I like him, I'll call you and arrange a meeting between us for tomorrow night and we can draw up a full contract." She gave Gibbs a wide smile. "I want him, Leroy."

Gibbs hesitated. They had known it might be a possibility she would take him tonight, but their eyes were set up for her estate, not her hotel. If something went wrong, it would be much harder to get Tim out. If she didn't get her way tonight, however, the entire op might be blown. He thought for only a few more seconds before nodding. "Fine, but I have one compromise." She raised a single brow. "I'll drop $200 per hour from the price in exchange for you not having him entirely."

"No touching?" she asked somewhat disappointedly.

"No sex. I don't want the extra expenses. That' my offer and only stipulation." While it made him shudder to think he had just given this woman permission to _touch_ his agent, he knew that Tim's cover relied on him being a man who gave pleasure. If Gibbs tried too much to stifle that, Connie would sense something was off.

As it was, she looked disappointed. "Am I not to have him ever?

Gibbs took another drink, draining the glass before speaking, giving himself a moment to think. "Did I say that? We shall discuss that more in depth when I am sure we have a contract. So," he gave another rare smile, "do we have a deal?"

Connie smiled and reached out her hand. "You are a cunning man, Leroy. Yes… we have a deal."

.-.-.

Tim closed his eyes as Gibbs shook Connie's hand firmly. His fate had been sealed.

x.x.x.x.x(

_I still appreciate reviews, and I would really like your input on this chapter (its one of my favorite chapters, and one of the most fun to write)._


	4. Chapter 4

_Mike in Announcer Voice: Ladies and Gentlemen! Boy and girls of all ages! May I present to you your new writer… Mike!_

_Lehcar: That's not my writing style. I don't do the whole 'conversation intro' thing. Now just write what I tell you._

_Mike: But since I'm typing, shouldn't I say how it starts?_

_Lehcar: No. _

_Mike: Fine, whatever. Anyways, if you haven't already figured it out, I'm Mike. For the next several weeks any writing Lehcar has to do will be done by me. See, a few days ago Leh was walking across campus when she was taken up in a fit a fury and rage, causing her to attack a passing cyclist! _

_Lehcar: You idiot! You pushed me into the bike path!_

_Mike: *cough cough* Well, there were no witnesses so it's your word against mine! Anyways, Leh dislocated her thumb and tore a tendon in her hand. So since both of her hands are now messed up, she's currently out of commission. But, stubborn girl that she is, she refuses to put her story aside even though she's hurt. So, I'm doing her a favor-_

_Lehcar: You're serving you sentence! _

_Mike: -right, serving my sentence, by letting her dictate to me. So, since dictating to someone takes a lot longer than typing yourself, updates will be fewer and far in between. Now, onto the story._

_Lehcar: I hate you, Mike… seriously._

_**Disclaimer:**__ Lehcar does not own NCIS. If she did, there would be many more "Tim" centric episodes. (If you haven't figured it out, she REEEEALLY likes McGee!)_

_Lehcar: STOP CHANGING MY WRITING STYLE!_

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Tim sat nervously beside Gibbs in the backseat of the sedan. Connie and the older man had agreed to let Gibbs drop Tim off at the hotel, giving the two men time to talk and discuss the situation. The ironic part – but somewhat expected – bit of the trip was that Gibbs only talked for about ten minutes of the thirty minute drive. Tim didn't know whether to scream in frustration at being left to nothing more than his thoughts or be thankful for the fact that he had one more chance to sort out his thoughts.

It wasn't long till he found his mind wandering to Tony, Ziva, and Abby.

.-.-.

**Flashback to earlier that day**

Tim looked sadly around the empty bullpen. If felt strange to know that if tonight went as *planned* he wasn't going to step foot in this building for who knows how long. The irony in it made him shake his head. As much as he wanted this assignment, he was nervous about leaving all this behind. That feeling of nervousness had been lost among all the other things he had been nervous about, but now that he was leaving it was weighing heavily on his mind.

He glanced over at Tony's empty desk. For a second he felt a burst of jealousy. When Tony had gone undercover as Tony DiNardo he got to stay at NCIS. He was lucky to have the normalcy of the job and the support of his friends. As he thought that, Tim felt the jealousy leave as fast as it had come. No, Tony hadn't been lucky: the op had tortured the Italian for months. First he fell in love with a woman that had no idea who he really was, and he then he had to spend months lying to the people who trusted him the most. Tim sighed: it wasn't really fair to compare his assignment to Tony's.

"Are you ready for tonight?" Tim jumped as the voice spoke. He turned to see Ziva studying him.

He cleared his throat uncomfortably. "Yeah, ready as I'll ever be," he replied.

"Nonsense," Ziva replied as she left Tim's side and returned to her own desk. "If you had had a year to prepare, you would be much more ready for this assignment."

Tim merely blinked. How was he supposed to answer that? He sighed. "True, but I don't have a year. I have," he quickly looked down at his watch, "five hours."

Ziva merely offered him a small smile before facing her computer. Tim gazed at her a second, then glanced sadly back at Tony's desk. It was comments like that, the little remarks, which made Tim see through the charade. No matter how helpful Ziva and Tony were, no matter how kind they were, and no matter how much they tried to act normal, they still reminded Tim of what they had said last week.

_I'm the one with the experience to handle those risks!_

_You do not think Tim can handle himself._

_If he can't handle it… then we shall see._

Tim gazed sadly at Ziva, absorbed in her work. All week she had diligently working to set up an iron-clad cover. She had offered Tim smiles and comfort, but all the while undercut herself by asking if he was ready, or if he thought he could handle it. She didn't realize just how much she was showing her doubts. Tim had thought she would be there for him. When she first joined the team he felt he had to offer her a friendly face. He knew she was strong and that underneath the Mossad façade she was a loyal and kind friend. But now that Tim was finally getting the chance to prove he wasn't just the tech guy she questioned his skill and strength. It hurt knowing that even though he could see past her surface, she couldn't see past his.

Then there was Tony. Oh Christ… Tony, his friend, his _brother_, was questioning this assignment. He wasn't questioning the fact that it was Tim. No, Tony was questioning the fact that it wasn't himself! He saw himself as the strongest of the three partners: the one that took over when Gibbs left them, the one that tried to hold everything together after Kate died. Tony wasn't used to being the one on the sidelines. He took his frustration silently out on the team, but mostly Tim. He would throw glares at the younger man, but then would playfully tease his partner like it was a normal week. He never saw just how badly he was hurting the younger agent.

That, Tim thought sadly, was what hurt the most. His family was too wrapped up in their own doubts and frustrations to see just how much they were pushing Tim away.

But the one pushing the most was Abby. As much as Tony glared and Ziva questioned, neither could compare to the pain Abby was causing. Even if Tony and Ziva didn't approve of this assignment, they still had to be there for him. His life depended on them. If Tony didn't get the proper surveillance set up, Tim could disappear without a trace. If Ziva didn't build a strong cover, Tim could be found out. If Abby did nothing, nothing happened. Abby was still refusing to talk to Tim, and he found himself longing to talk to her. Even though they had a somewhat rocky beginning, the two had quickly become friends. When Tony's antics became too much, or Ziva was being particularly scary, Tim knew he could find sanctuary in Abby's lab, as well as her arms. Now that she was refusing to even see him, he found himself missing her companionship. And for all the analyzing he had done of Tony and Ziva, he couldn't figure out what was going on in her mind.

Tim closed his eyes. He knew this assignment was what he wanted and what he needed. He just hoped his team and his friendships could survive it.

**End Flashback**

.-.-.

Tim was jerked out of his thoughts as he felt the car stop. He looked out the window to see the car had stopped in front of a large, eloquent looking hotel. Already a valet was walking towards the car. Tim frowned at the posh entrance, not knowing if he was ready to face what he knew was waiting inside. He jumped as a hand laid itself on his shoulder.

"You'll be fine," Gibbs said softly.

Tim glanced at the older agent. "If you say so," he replied.

Gibbs gave him a small grin. "I know so. If you're not-,"

"You'll kick my ass," Tim mumbled with a smile.

"Well, yeah," he smirked. "Actually, I was going to say that if you're not okay Tony would kick *my* ass." He laughed at Tim's confused look. "He's worried for you; so is Ziva. Tim," he gave the shoulder a firm squeeze, "they may need to screw their heads on a bit straighter, but they've got your back."

"I hope you're right," Tim said softly. He gave Gibbs one last look before exiting the car. The valet had already left and had been replaced by the bellhop. Tim told him it was only the black bag and followed the uniformed man to the door. He paused at the door and turned back to the dark sedan. He watched as the chauffeur drove back out onto the road and disappeared into the traffic.

In that moment, Tim had never felt so alone.

x.x.x.x.x

_Mike: Aw! Don't you feel so bad for little Timmy? Well, Leh would like to apologize for this chapter being shorter than the others. Would have been longer, but she really didn't want to go to long without updating. She would also like to apologize for all the talking I've been doing. ;)_

_Lehcar: Mike, stop typing… now…_

_Mike: Anyways, I know reviews are appreciated, so please tell Leh what she can do better. (PS, she REALLY enjoys reading new reviews. Seriously, after updating she rechecks, like, every other hour for new reviews.)_

_Lehcar: I DO NOT!_

_Mike: heh heh heh! BTW, everything you see above that Lehcar "said", she actually did say to me while she watched me type. Until next time my pretties!_

_Lehcar: I hate him…_


	5. Chapter 5

_Mike: So, we're sorry for the delay, but it's hard to find a time between finals for both of us to sit down and write. _

_Lehcar: Not too much in way of Tim's mission in this chapter, but a lot of important relationship building for Tim and Connie. _

_Disclaimer: Lehcar owns no part of NCIS._

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Tim walked into the lobby of the hotel, taking in the luxurious decorations. He knew he should have been impressed, but somehow he wasn't. Instead of gawking he tried to look around for the bellhop that had his bag. He turned and found himself almost toe to toe with a huge man. Even at his height of six foot one inch Tim still had to tilt his head back slightly to look the man in the eye.

"Oh, excuse me sir," he said softly. He was slightly intimidated by the man's size, not that Tim would ever admit it. He stood at least five inches above him, and his shoulders were twice as wide. As Tim gazed up, he found himself looking into hard, brown eyes framed by dark short cut hair. The agent swallowed. This was not the sort of man you wanted to annoy. "I'm sorry. I didn't see you. I was just trying to look for my bellhop," he said in a rush.

The intimidating man glared at Tim. "Are you Timothy?" His voice was mellow, but there was a hard edge to it. Tim only nodded in reply. The man looked Tim up and down before scoffing. "I suppose Miss Malloy knows what she is doing," he mumbled to himself more than Tim. He turned and began to walk away from Tim. "Miss Malloy is waiting for you in her rooms. You bag has already been brought to her chamber." He paused and looked around at the unmoving man. "Come on," he said roughly, shocking Tim into movement.

The man led Tim to top floor where the suits were. He stopped in front of one of the doors. "Miss Malloy is waiting for you inside," the firm voice told him.

Tim took a deep breath before knocking. The large man rolled his eyes. "You don't have to knock, just go in!"

Tim blushed slightly, but covered his embarrassment by pushing open the door. He opened it barely enough to ease through before shutting the door silently behind him. The room he entered was huge! Tim quickly took in the lavish decorations and furniture. He crept farther into the suit, looking around. To his left was a full kitchen, complete with a stove and dishwasher. He saw three doors that led off to two bedrooms and a large bathroom. Tim shook his head. _This place is nicer than my apartment,_ he thought ruefully.

"It's alright. Come in and sit down." Tim jumped nearly a foot in the air as the voice came from nowhere. He turned and faced the couch, his eyes still adjusting to the low light. Connie sat curled on the couch, her legs tucked delicately to the side as she sat up straighter to look at Tim. Her small smile settled easily on her lips as she beckoned Tim towards her. "It's alright, Tim," she said softly. "I'm not going to do anything to you."

Tim mentally shook himself. Yes, he was supposed to play up the inexperienced escort for Connie's sake, but inexperienced didn't mean *no* experience. He kept his head down, but forced himself to relax as he gently slipped into one of the plush chairs on either side of the couch. Though his head remained bent, Tim did look up and smile at Connie through his eyelashes.

"There, that's better." Connie stood and walked behind the couch to the minibar. "What would you like to drink?"

Tim gave a shrugged. "You seem to enjoy observing and then deduction things about others. What do you think I would care for?"

Connie smiled at his game. "I see I'm not the only one who observes and deducts," she told him lightly. There was a chinking of glasses and the sound of a liquid being poured. A few moments later, Connie returned with two glasses of wine. "A dark, rich Tawny port for Tim," she said as she handed Tim a glass filled with a dark amber wine, "and French Pinot Noir for myself."

"Thank you," Tim said as she resumed her seat on the couch. He waited until she took a sip from her own drink before raising the glass to his lips. He was surprised at the sweet but rounded, nutty flavor that coated his tongue. "This is excellent!" he said. He looked happily at Connie. "You have excellent tastes," he complimented. He purposefully left the statement opened ended. He had learned from Tony over the years that a simply statement like that, when left to the imagination, could lead to many outcomes, most of them good.

For Connie, it seemed her imagination played right into the unspoken compliments. Her eyes lidded themselves slightly as she looked at him over her glass. "Thank you."

Tim sniffed again at the glass. "So, Tawny port? Did you say?" Connie gave a small nod. "I must admit, I am a fan of a good port every once in a while, but I have never heard of a Tawny port. What about me said I would enjoy this particular drink?" he asked, genuinely curious.

Connie swirled her own drink and took a sip before answering. "Port is traditionally a dessert wine, crafted to be consumed after dinner or later in the evening. Tawny port, however, is usually a more mild sweet wine. Not too sweet but not too dry." Connie let her eyes roam down Tim's body once before continuing. "For all the handsomeness and maturity you have, there is still a slight hint of innocence and boyishness about you. I would like to think that a boyish sweet tooth still lingers in the mature palate."

Tim laughed. "I hope there's not too much 'boy' still in there."

Connie's smile turned ever so slightly predatory. "Well," she said softly, "we'll just have to see, won't we?" Tim tried not to freeze at her words, but he didn't completely succeed. Connie noticed and laughed at him. "Again, Tim, you can relax. Leroy and I agreed that I wasn't going to take you tonight."

Tim nodded, a small grin managing to show through his nervousness. "Sorry ma'am."

Connie feigned a hurt look. "Really, Tim, do I look that old that you have to "ma'am" me?"

Tim blushed. "Sorry, force of habit I suppose." He grinned sheepishly at him. "And, I'm afraid I never did catch what it was you would prefer to be called," he admitted, remembering that if she hadn't introduced herself he shouldn't know what her name was.

She blinked a few times. "Well, by my first name of course!" Tim only responded by raising an eyebrow. "Oh! I never actually introduced myself, did I?" Tim shook his head. "Well! Well, just have to fix that!" She shifted herself forward on the couch so she was sitting up straight, feet firmly planted on the floor, and faced Tim. "Hello, my name is Connie Malloy, but please, call me Connie." She reached out her hand to Tim.

He lightly grasped her hand before placing a chaste kiss on the back of her fingers. "Connie. A beautiful name."

She gave him a charmed smile. "Such a gentleman," she murmured. "And might I ask what your name is?"

Tim nodded to her. "Timothy Malcolm, if that pleases you."

Connie narrowed her eyes playfully. "And if it doesn't please me?"

"Then you may call me whatever you please," he echoed from earlier in the evening.

"How about… Tim?"

"If that is what you like," Tim replied softly. From there the conversation went on at a fairly steady pace. Tim was surprised at how easy conversation came to them. They easily moved from one topic to the next. They talked long into the night, debating, discussing, and sharing. They slowly sipped their wine as the minutes slipped away. Tim found himself thinking less and less about trying to be the seductive escort and settled more into his usual self. Connie, too, seemed to let down the act of the controlled businesswoman and became more relaxed. Neither, however, truly noticed the changes.

Eventually Connie looked down at her watch. "Good Lord! It's nearly one in the morning!" She chuckled. "I suppose I got caught up in your voice a bit too much!" she said thoughtfully. "Now I do believe it is time for bed." She stood, shaking out the creases in the dress she still wore. "Your room is there, to the right. I trust you'll be able to sleep fine on your own?"

Tim chuckled. "Of course. 'I love sleep. My life has the tendency to fall apart when I'm awake.'"

"Earnest Hemingway!" Connie correctly identified the quote. "Two quotes from two famous authors in one night. I must say, I am impressed with your knowledge of literature." She took a few steps towards Tim and placed her hands on his shoulders. Gently, slowly, she placed her lips on his cheek, giving him a chaste kiss. Her lips remained on his skin just long enough for Tim to feel his cheeks turn pink. Slowly she pulled back to look into his eyes. "Remember to set your alarm. You will be having breakfast with me at 7:30." She let her hands slide from his shoulders and trail down his chest. She smirked at the blush on his skin. "Goodnight, Tim." With that she turned and crossed to her own bedroom, quietly shutting the door behind her.

Tim found his bag in the second bedroom and got himself ready for bed. As he slipped under the silk sheets he thought about Connie. She was quite an interesting woman. She could be calculating, like he had seen her be with Gibbs, seductive and suggestive like she was earlier, and relaxed and calm like she had been while they were drinking their wine. Tim had almost lulled himself into believing that she had been truly opening up to him and seeing him as a normal person. But that had changed with her last statement. She told him he would be having breakfast with her. She didn't ask, she told him! That snapped Tim back into remembrance of why he was there, why he had to get close like he was. He sighed into his pillow. He suddenly realized just how hard this op was going to be on his mental state.

.-.-.

The next morning Tim stepped out into the main room of the suit, feeling relaxed and refreshed. As he ran a hand down his sleeve, removing the last of the wrinkles, he saw why people enjoyed having expensive clothes. Better clothes truly made one feel more confident. He had dressed similarly to what he had worn the night before, but had swapped the slacks for black jeans and the shirt was a dark, emerald green. He appreciated the new wardrobe NCIS had bought for him, and he wondered if he could keep it when this all ended.

He looked around and was surprised to find Connie already awake, dressed, and working on her laptop. She was seated at the breakfast counter that separated the kitchen from the main part of the room. She typed diligently at the keyboard, her eyes gazing intensely at the screen through the glasses perched on the bridge of her nose. She was dressed casually in a bright red shirt and a flowing white skirt. Tim had to pause for a moment to study her. The reading glasses accentuated her mature features, and added to the intense gaze she had. Tim knew that he was once again seeing the hardened business woman Connie truly was.

She looked up and saw Tim watching her. "Good morning, Tim," she said lightly as she closed the program she had been working on.

"Good morning," he replied, taking a seat on one of the other stools. "Business this early in the morning?"

Connie nodded. "I have a video conference later with a Chinese company interested in opening trades with my company, and I want to make sure I have all my notes in perfect order."

Tim furrowed his brow. "Wouldn't you have a representative do that sort of thing for you?"

Connie gave him a hard stare for a moment. After a few seconds she answered him. "Some of the larger projects I like to handle myself," she told him bluntly. "And Tim? My responsibility is business, while yours is entertainment." Her gaze reminded Tim briefly of Ziva's eyes whenever she gave a suggestive threat with a smile.

"Understood, ma'am," he said quietly. And he did understand. He was not to ask questions about her business. Was there something behind her business that needed to be hidden? He mentally marked that down in his mind as something to look into further.

Connie sighed as she closed her laptop. "And we're back to the 'ma'am' issue," she said with mock weariness. "Are you ever going to just call me Connie?"

Tim shrugged. "Perhaps… ma'am."

Connie playfully slapped his arm. "Stop teasing!" she laughed. She stood from her stool and motioned for Tim to do the same. "Now, let us go to breakfast. The restaurant here has an excellent menu!" She led him out the door, making sure it locked behind her. Tim wasn't quite paying attention, and therefore ran into someone.

He held out a hand to the wall stable himself. "Ow! Oh, I'm so sorry. I wasn't watc-" He froze as he realized he had just run into the same man he had the day before. He let out a small squeak. "Sorry…"

Connie laughed. "I see you've met my bodyguard. Tim, this is Kyle Parks. As you know, Kyle, this is my new escort Tim."

Tim smiled wearily at the other man. Kyle merely nodded, his eyes coldly studying Tim. The small man shifted uncomfortable under the bodyguard's glare. Connie hid her grin at Tim's unease. "Kyle, we're off to breakfast," she told him promptly, laying a hand on Tim's elbow and maneuvering him around the large man. "You'll have to excuse Kyle. He's extremely loyal to me, and is a suspicious character. I always suspect his SEAL training did that to him."

Tim looked surprised as they entered the elevator. "He's a SEAL?"

Connie shook her head sadly. "No, poor dear. He made it through most of the training, but when they got to the underwater attack training, he couldn't make it. Apparently having someone rip out your re-breather and attacking you while you might drown is a harrowing experience. He now has a severe fear of drowning."

They rode the rest of the elevator ride in silence. Tim took the opportunity to process what he had learned. If Kyle had made it almost all the way through SEAL training, he very well could have made several Navy contacts. Tim would definitely need to keep an eye on him.

A few minutes later Tim and Connie had entered the in hotel restaurant and had been shown to a table. Tim quickly stepped behind Connie and pulled out the chair for her. She smiled and sat down. "Thank you Tim."

"My pleasure." He seated himself and within seconds a waiter was filling two glasses with water, giving them menus, and explaining the morning's specials.

"What are you thinking of having?" Connie asked.

Tim regarded the menu and was a bit overwhelmed. "I'm not sure. Too many things on here look appetizing."

"Do you want me to pick for you?" Connie asked innocently.

Tim smiled. "If you can peg my tastes as well as you did last night with the wine, I'll always let you choose."

Connie let out a small laugh. "Thank you for your confidence." She lay down her menu and signaled the waiter over.

Tim grinned ruefully. _That cocky, sneaky woman,_ Tim thought. _She knew probably since last night that she could get me to let her order. Perhaps someone has a bit of a control obsession._ The waiter didn't even write down their order: he simply memorized it. With a head bow he left their table, returning a few minutes with two cups and a pot of tea. Acting on instinct, Tim reached out and poured the tea for first Connie and them himself. If he was honest, Gibbs and the rest of the team had turned him into a coffee lover, but he still enjoyed tea once in a while. He watched as Connie poured cream into her cup. He smiled as the action reminded him of Ducky.

"What are you thinking about?" Connie's voice broke through his thoughts.

Tim secretly bit the inside of his cheek as a piece of Tony's advice rang through his mind: always remain engaged with your partner. He looked at Connie apologetically. "Sorry. You putting milk in your tea reminded me of an old friend of mine."

Connie nodded as she stirred her tea. "Was he British?"

"Scottish, actually." As he thought of the ME he thought of the last time he had seen the man. Ducky had come up to Tim's desk right before the team left to begin the op and had shaken Tim's hand. The doctor had wished the young man luck and then quickly turned away. Jimmy, surprisingly, had also shaken Tim's hand. Though he remained silent, his eyes told Tim that he was worried for the agent.

"Tim?" Connie prodded.

Tim shook his head. "I'm sorry! I guess I keep getting lost in my thoughts."

Connie feigned hurt look. "Am I that un-entertaining that you have to amuse yourself with your thoughts?"

The agent gave a suggestive grin. "Who said my thoughts weren't about you?"

She laughed softly. "Flatterer."

"And proud of it," Tim retorted, even though he secretly was astonished; that was one thing he thought no one would ever accuse him of being!

They continued to lightly tease each other back and forth throughout breakfast. They chatted like they had the night before, the conversation flowing from one topic to the next without concern. An hour and a half later they were still seated at the table. Connie once again was the one to notice the time.

"Well! I certainly to lose track of time when you're around," she joking scolded. She reached into the small purse she had and pulled out the room key. "Here," she handed it to Tim. "I have a few errands to run this morning. You may go back to the room and relax for a few hours. I only have three things to ask of you. First, call Leroy and tell him to us in the suit at nine o'clock PM. Second, you may relax and do as you please in the hotel, but please be dressed in semi formal clothes by noon for the luncheon. Third," as she spoke the last request her eyes narrowed dangerously, "I enjoy you as an escort: please don't make me let you go because you could not keep out of places you don't belong." Tim swallowed and nodded. Her eyes brightened back up. "Good. I will see you at noon." With that she stood. She leaned over Tim and once again placed a kiss on his cheek. "Behave yourself," she reminded him as she walked away.

Five minutes later, Tim stood in his bedroom. Without knowing what else to do he decided he would spend an hour or two in the hotel's gym. But first, he had a call to make. After a quick search for bugs (you could never be too careful) Tim deemed the room secure. To be on the safe side, however, he turned the TV to a music channel and turned up the volume. Then he grabbed his new disposable phone. It only had two numbers: one labeled Nana (actually an emergency number for NCIS in case Tim got in trouble) and one labeled Leroy. Tim quickly called the second number. Gibbs picked up after one ring.

"What!"

Tim chuckled. "Nice to hear from you too, Boss."

"How did things go last night?"

"Fine. Connie and I just talked for a long time. Nothing important though." Tim heard Gibbs getting ready to cut in, so he quickly continued. "But I do have my first suspect. Kyle Parks, Malloy's body guard. Apparently he went through the SEAL training program but failed the underwater training. He might still have contacts in the Navy."

"And if he didn't make the cut," Gibbs pondered, "he might harbor some bad feelings towards the Navy."

"That's what I thought," Tim agreed.

"Alright, good job. You keep after him and we'll take a look at him from this end. Now, why the hell are you calling me? I thought we said no contact?"

"I know! But I'm calling you as my handler. Connie wanted me to tell you when and where to meet us tonight." Quickly he told Gibbs the information for the meeting.

"Alright, Tim, keep up the good work."

"Thanks, Boss."

"Anything else?"

"No, tha-" he sighed as he heard a click. "For once I'd appreciate it if he actually said goodbye before hanging up." He sighed and lay back on his bed for a moment. He would spend a few hours in the gym to try and relax before the dinner. He knew this whole op depended on Tim making it through this dinner without screwing up. He'd just have to hope for the best.

x.x.x.x.x

_Mike: I'm sorry for the lack of witty banter that I like to write, but it's too solemn a day on campus to act silly. The tragedy that struck our Hokie Family weighs too heavy on our hearts._

_Lehcar: We ask that you keep the Virginia Tech community in your thoughts as violence has once again found our home. Thank you._


	6. Chapter 6

_Mike: Heh heh… hi-ya guys… long time no see… _

_Lehcar: Yeah… Finals kinda got in the way…_

_Mike: And since we're both home now, it's kind of hard for me to type for Leh. Skype isn't the best tool for dictating. Plus… She had writers block…_

_Lehcar: You are NOT pinning your slow typing on me. I do not have writers block. Remember, I have this WHOLE story thought out… mostly… Anyways, the point is that we really don't have a valid excuse. So, please, forgive us our delays and enjoy the story._

_Disclaimer: Lehcar owns no part of NCIS. If she did, she could just hire someone to type this for her instead of threatening me with a fork…_

_Lehcar: You weren't typing fast enough! Besides, it was a plastic fork, you baby…_

x.x.x.x.x

The summer between his junior and senior year at MIT, Tim's grandmother forced him into taking an etiquette class at a community college. At the time, he had been mortified. What 20 year old wanted to spend their evenings in a stuffy room with men and women twice his age learning what each fork was used for? Now, staring at the setting on the table before him, Tim was thankful for the forced experience.

There had to beat least six differently pieces of silverware laid out before him. And as he glanced cautiously around he noticed that most of the people knew how to use them. He sent a silent thank you to his grandmother for the training as he picked up the proper fork for his salad. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Connie look momentarily surprised. When he turned to get a better look, the expression was gone.

"So, Connie," a voice spoke up. Both Tim and Connie's eyes were drawn to the man sitting across the table. He looked as if he was a few inches shorter than Tim, but much older. His dark hair was slicked and comb back, giving the hair a distinctly greased look. Tim thought it wasn't just the hair that looked greasy. The entirety of the man, from looks to personality, oozed a kind of creepy aura. "You haven't properly introduced us to your… young friend."

While ladies seated at the table of ten all looked over at Tim, Connie glared at the greasy man. "This, Maxie, is my date, Timothy."

The man addressed as Maxie scowled. "My name, as you well know my dear, is Maxwell. I would appreciate it if you would refer to me as such." Connie didn't roll her eyes, but Tim could see the restraint it took for her to hold it in. Maxwell glared at Tim. "So, how did you meet Ms. Connie?"

Tim gave a tight lipped smile. He wasn't sure how Connie normal introduced her escorts, so he decided to be a vague as possible. "Connie and I met at a dinner the other night, and she invited me to today's gathering."

Connie smiled at Tim, pleased with his answer. "Yes, we talked, had a drink, and I was intrigued. So I invited him here today. For I always mark the option of having a "plus one", because *I* can always find someone who wants to attend me." She threw out this last comment with a slight smirk. Tim knew she did it to jib at Maxwell, who obviously came alone. The man twitched a bit and opened his mouth to speak, but was cut off by a woman who appeared to be around Connie's age.

"Oh, Max, just drop it! You two are always picking at each other, and one of you always ends up getting the raw end of the argument."

"And by 'one of you', she means you," a man with Indian features and accent told the ruffled man.

Tim chuckled softly. "I'm guessing most of you know each other?"

The first woman that had spoken nodded. "These charity events and other social gatherings usually cater to us, so the same faces are usually around."

"Us?" Tim asked, raising an eyebrow.

A girl who looked about 18 sighed. "We are, for lack of a better term, the rich and the powerful. Everyone invited has some form of influence." She pointed to the first woman that spoke. "Mrs. Catharine Doyle, wife to House Representative Doyle." Next was the couple next to Doyle. "Sir Ethan Godfrey: British engineer Knighted for his advancements in building design, safety, and efficiency, accompanied by his wife Sarah." She gestured to the Indian man next. "Lahar New, CEO of his own microchip company." Next was the elderly lady and the shy teenage girl next to her. "Mrs. Jon, matriarch of Appalachian Energy Incorporated, with her granddaughter Mariah." The young woman narrowed her eye at the last man. "And of course, you have already met Maxie." The greasy man glared, and the woman rolled her eyes. "Oh, pardon me, I meant Mister Maxwell Mason Rhoden the Fifth!" She sneered at him as she said his name. "He owns several coal companies in West Virginia."

Tim chuckled at the girl. "I see the claim that everyone knows everyone was not exaggerated. But," he gave the girl a quizzical look, "who are you?"

Connie reached over and gave the younger woman a pat on the shoulder. "This is Talitha May."

The girl gave Connie a withering look. "It's Tali. Ta-li!"

The entire table laughed at the girl's discomfort. "So, why are you here?" Tim asked.

Tali laughed. "My dad is Rear Admiral Aral May, the Deputy Judge Advocate General for JAG."

Tim swallowed at the word JAG. He saw Connie's eyes narrow at him slightly, but she didn't say anything. Their food arrived not long after (Connie had once again order for Tim), and the group settled into pleasant and polite chit chat. Since Tim seemed to be the only one new to the group the other's seemed to ask him all sorts of questions. He became nervous as they spoke to him, but he tried to keep his answers vague, similar to how he had answered Maxie. At least, he tried to keep vague until Tali asked a very specific question.

"So what do you do for a living, Tim?" The entire table looked up from their conversations and turned their gazes to Tim expectantly. Even Connie watched Tim, one corner of her mouth curling up as she waited his response.

Tim's mind faltered. Earlier he had side stepped the questions about his background because they we nonspecific, but how did he get out of this one? Did Connie want him to keep it quiet? Was it acceptable to reveal his "career"? Should he lie? He bit the inside of his lip as he caught sight of Connie's smirk. _Damn her, she's enjoying watching me squirm!_ he thought bitterly. _Sadist._ He decided that attempting vague once again was his only safe option.

"I'm in the business of… entertainment," he said in a serious tone. The table remained quiet, and he raised his glass to his lips in an effort to hide his blush. After a moment, the others (expect for the sullen Maxie) burst into laughter.

"Oh lord," Doyle chortled. "Business of entertainment! That is a new one!"

Lahar shook his finger at Connie, a smile wide across his face. "You've found yourself a winner, Connie," he guffawed. "He'd make an excellent business man!"

"Indeed," Godfrey chortled. "He answered all his questions but didn't tell us a thing!"

Mrs. Jon wiped her eyes with her napkin. "Congratulations, Tim. You passed."

Tim gave Connie a perplexed look, which grew as he saw the humor in her eyes. "Passed?" he almost squeaked.

Tali giggled and answered. "Relax Tim; we already know what you do for a living. Connie regularly has a new man every few months. Sometimes every few weeks if she can't find an escort she likes."

Sarah gave Tim a sympathetic look. "Sorry, dear. Connie never introduces her escorts as such. She prefers to see how long they squirm till they let something inappropriate slip. But you did fine."

Tim turned back to his date—boss?—with a small scowl. "Sadist," he muttered, aloud this time, but under his breath.

Connie chuckled. "Get used to it."

Tim's scowl softened back into a grin. "I think I can live with that."

Connie's eye's hooded themselves ever so slightly. "I think I can live with that too."

.-.-.

"You did well, Tim," Connie praised once they were back inside her chauffeured sedan. At first Tim had been surprised she went with a more modest car verses a limousine. Now he saw that Connie didn't need to flaunt her money in order to assert her power, not when she could impress and control so easily with her words.

Tim leaned back into the plush leather and sighed. "Thank you. I hoped I preformed to your satisfaction."

"Actually, you didn't." Tim blanched, but said nothing. He did, however, turn his eyes to his companion and raise his eyebrows in questioning. "Oh, you did as well as I expected you to," Connie said, "but we have a ways to go before you meet my standards. First, while you did answer all the questions our company threw at you, you took much too long to answer. Second, you show your emotions a bit too readily," she stated. "Several time you let it show just how scared and or nervous you were. As new as you are, I hope that will go away with a bit of practice." She gave him a hard look. "By the way, what happened when Tali mentioned her father?"

Tim once again stiffened. "I don't know what you're talking about, Connie."

She rolled her eyes. "You just did it again. Do you have something against the man?"

Tim swallowed. "Not him, exactly. Just JAG. Well, actually, just the Navy."

"Something you'd like to share?" she pried.

"Not really. My father was in the Navy. It's just a touchy subject." He didn't want to say much else. If he was going to pull off this op, he had to let her know he had Navy contacts without giving her too much info too fast. As it was, he seemed to have her curious. "I'd rather not discuss it."

"Hmmm," she muttered. She studied him a moment longer, but she didn't press him. "Well, where was I? Ah, I was critiquing. Third, and this is a broad point, you need to be more attentive to me. While it was good you engaged in conversation with those around us, you should have always left those conversations for me," she admonished. "I, being your employer, should always be your first concern."

Tim wondered how it was Connie made him feel the same way his high school principal had after he played a practical joke on some of his classmates. It had to be the voice. It was the tone of voice that one did not defy, no matter what was being said. Tim noted that she was the third person to have totally mastered that voice, the first two being his father and Gibbs. "Sorry," he mumbled, bowing his head slightly.

Connie sighed. "Oh, Tim, don't take it so personally. You admit that you are new to being an escort?"

"Well," Tim said slowly, "yes."

"Then there it is!" Tim felt a slender hand place itself on his jaw and force his head up. His eyes moved to Connie's face, where they were greeted with a smile. "Tim, if you're new, you can't be perfect. You can be good, and I admit that for a beginner you *are* good, but you can't be expected to do everything right. Remember," she said lightly, "I said I wanted you so I can teach you. I want to train you to be exactly what I want." Her hand gently guided his head forward, and she laid a gentle, chaste kiss on his cheek.

A grin crossed Tim's lips. _Train me, will you?_ He chuckled to himself. _I suppose I can handle that. Just as long as she doesn't try to make me subservient. I worked too hard to get out from under my dad to ever go back to that. _"I'll do whatever you want me to," Tim responded to her.

Connie laughed and let her hand slide from his jaw. "Well, don't let your man hear you say that. There are some things he would not be too happy about me asking you to do." She let out a sigh as she settled farther back into the leather. "Though I wish he would reconsider on certain *things*," she said in a slightly wistful tone as she eyed Tim with the same predatory look she had given him the night before. "Perhaps I can convince Leroy tonight about letting me have you." The way she spoke left no doubt in Tim's mind as to what she was after.

"You'll just have to work that out with G-Leroy, I'm afraid," Tim said. He quickly berated himself for almost slipping up and using the name Gibbs. "I don't really have any say in what he does."

Connie giggled. "Well, we'll just have to sway him to our way of thinking. We have a few hours before we meet with him, but I want you to spend that time relaxing. I have some paperwork to sort through, but you may do as you please once we get back to the hotel."

"Is this what my duties would be if you sign me on for a long term contract?" Tim asked curiously.

"Hmm?" Connie questioned.

"I mean," Tim explained, "would I only attend you for public events and such?"

Connie didn't shrug, but she did give a small tilt of her head. "That is what we are going to discuss tonight. I will tell you this: you most basic of duties will be to accompany me to public events, but in the comfort of my own home I will often request that you stay near me for companionship." After that explanation, she fell silent and stared out the window.

Tim, not knowing how to break the silence, followed her example and watched the scenery, letting his mind fall back into blankness.

x.x.x.x.x

_Lehcar: AAARRRRHHHH! I meant to put so much more in this chapter! I really did! But I felt so bad about not updating that I just HAD to put something up! I promise the next chapter will be longer… and will be more satisfying… and will deal with Tim actually being and agent and snooping around… and-_

_Mike: They get it. Again, we're sorry for the long delay. Perhaps more reviews will mean faster updates?_

_Lehcar: Mike, there's no correlation between how many reviews I receive and-_

_Mike: *sigh* Shut up Leh. Until next time-_

_Mike and Lehcar: HAPPY HOLIDAYS!_


	7. Chapter 7

_Lehcar: …We're back…_

_Mike: …Yeah… We're really sorry it took us so long, but you see, we *(feel free to enter a lame, random excuse here because we really can't come up with one good enough that you couldn't see right through to our laziness)*. So, anyways, we're sorry._

_Lehcar: Really, really, sorry._

_Disclaimer: Lehcar owns no part of NCIS. If she did, do you really think she would be writing fanfics?_

_Lehcar: Actually… I probably still would. :D_

x.x.x.x.x

Tim shifted nervously in his seat. He continued to glance back and forth between Connie, the door, and the clock on the wall of the kitchen. Two minutes till seven. Where the hell was he? Surely… surely Gibbs wouldn't be late. As he snuck another look at the clock, he heard a sigh.

"Tim, he'll get here when he gets here," Connie told him calmly, not looking up from her computer.

Tim bowed his head sheepishly. "Sorry," he muttered.

Connie breathed out heavily through her nose. "What is it?"

"What is what?"

"What is it that's bothering you so much about what time your boss shows up?" she asked, looking up at him over her laptop.

Tim swallowed. "It's just… uh… well…"

Connie gave him an impatient look. "Spit it out!"

In all honesty, Tim was nervous that if Gibbs was late, Connie would reject Tim and the whole op would be useless. He couldn't afford that. He decided to tell her the truth: at least part of it. "I've got a lot riding on this job," he said softly, his head still bowed.

Connie shut her laptop and propped elbow on the counter, her chin in her hand. "Meaning?"

The agent chewed the inside of his lip. Now might be a good chance for him to play up him being the inexperience escort. "Well," he said slowly, "I guess I haven't really been able to prove myself yet, and this is a pretty important job. If anything is screwed up, Boss will never give him another chance." As meek as that sounded, Tim knew it was the truth. If he couldn't pull this off, if any little thing went south, his team would forever regard him as the tech geek.

Connie smiled kindly. "Well, we'll just have to turn you into the best man Leroy has," she said softly.

As the words left her mouth there was a knock at the door. Connie grinned. "Speak of the Devil and he shall appear. Get the door, please."

Tim rose shakily and crossed over to the door. Quickly checking the peep hole, he sighed in relief and pulled the door open. "Boss," he said in a quick greeting.

Gibbs merely nodded as he looked his agent over: what he was looking for, Tim had no idea. After a second Gibbs moved past and greeted Connie. "Hello Connie. Nice to see you kept my boy in one piece."

Connie smirked as she stood and took Gibbs' hand. "Well, he was so well behaved that I didn't have to *break* him." Tim's eyes widened slightly at her tone.

Gibbs merely smirked right back before taking a seat in the leather chair across from the couch. Silently, Tim moved to stand behind Gibbs chair. "Shall we?"

"Straight forward," Connie said lightly, "but yes, lets." She sat herself down and Gibbs placed a hardcover folder on the coffee table between them. "First off, what are the boundaries you want on him?" she asked bluntly.

"No marks, no violence, no harm in anyway," Gibbs said immediately. "He may belong to me, but he is human."

"Hmm," Connie said non-committedly. "How far can I have him?"

"How far do you want?"

"Intercourse?"

Tim was desperately glad that he chose to stand behind Gibbs as his face flushed (although a small part of him wished he could see Gibbs reaction). His Boss was basically handing his agent over to this woman with the idea of "do as you please". Gibbs nodded and replied. "Fine. Will he have other duties?"

Connie nodded. "Yes. He will accompany me to any and all social events I attend and the occasional business event. He will attend me when and where I ask, no questions. I expect him to complete small day to day orders such as fetching drinks and what not. He will be with me unless I dismiss him for a time." She continued to list out a series of basic commands that Tim would have to follow, such as how and when to address her, and what he was prohibited from doing during his off hours. "That shoule about cover his duties," she said once she was finished.

Gibbs nodded. "I have one final request."

A delicate eyebrow rose at him. "Yes?"

"I need to see him at least once a week," Gibbs said shortly. "Make sure he's still in one piece."

Connie widened her eyelids ever so slightly. "Oh Leroy, do you not trust me?"

Gibbs sniffed. "Merely an insurance policy." Connie agreed, and they settled on Wednesday mornings for three hours. A car would pick Tim up where ever he happened to be and escort him back when the time was up. Once that and several more details were talked over, including prices, Gibbs reached into the folder and brought out two stapled pieces of paper. "I believe this covers everything we discussed."

Connie took the two papers and for several minutes read through the contents. When she was finished, she lay the contract on the table. "It all seems in order. Came prepared, didn't you?"

Gibbs grinned. "All I need now is for us to agree on how long this contract will be binding. Simply put, how long do you want my boy?"

For the first time since she and Gibbs had started negotiations, Connie looked up into Tim's eyes. She stared into his depths for several tense moments. Tim felt his heart speeding up. The racing speed soon caused his heart to begin jumping in his throat as her eyes slowly made their way down his frame. "One year." The frantically beating heart seemed to freeze in his chest.

Gibbs leaned forwards, his elbows on his knees. "A year?"

Connie nodded. "Correct. I want to train him, and I believe that amount of time will allow me to do just that as well as reap the benefits."

The former Marine leaned back. "I'm not comfortable letting my rookie out that long."

The woman's eyes narrowed. "This is non-negotiable. I have him for a year, or not at all."

Tim flinched as he heard Gibbs give a small, breathy laugh and scoop his head slightly to his right. After long acquaintance with the man, Tim recognized the sign that his Boss was annoyed and slightly vexed by Connie. Quietly, he stepped forwards to intervene.

"Ma'a- Connie," he said, catching himself in time. "If you remember the conversation you and I shared before Leroy," damn it felt weird to call Gibbs that, "arrived, I believe you will permit me to speak with him alone for a few minutes."

Connie sees softened as she gazed at Tim's insistent expression. "Of course. You may use your bedroom." She stood and shook out her dress. "In the meantime, I am going to step outside and have a word with my bodyguard." She smiled briefly before crossing the room and exiting.

Tim sighed as he led Gibbs to the room he had spent the night in and shut the door behind his boss. He quickly went and turned the TV on (again, you never know) before turning to Gibbs. The agent's cool business demeanor had slid from his face to be replaced by his scowl. "A year, Tim?" he said in a harsh but low tone.

Tim bit his lip. "I know… but-"

"A year?"

"I know it's longer than we planned but-"

"Longer than we planned?" Gibbs scoffed. "Hell, Tim, we only planned on four months! A year is a damn sight longer than four months."

"It doesn't change anything!" Tim argued. "We only planned for four months because that's all we thought it'd take! I can still find what we need in four," he reasoned, "but this way I'll have the safety net of those extra months. I might not even need the extra time!" Secretly, though, he had to question if that was true.

Gibbs scowled had lessened slightly, but he still looked wary. "I don't like it."

Tim saw he needed another point. "I know, but now I have more time to settle into my roll," he said. "I don't have to rush finding evidence and risk breaking cover. This way, Connie, as well as her staff, will trust me more, and I might have more access to what we need. Plus, the added time give me a time to build a solid case against whoever is behind the secrets trade." When Gibbs didn't move to say anything, Tim began growing desperate. "I know I didn't want to take this op on at first," he said sheepishly, "but it was just so unexpected. But, please Boss, I know I can do this!"

Gibbs sighed. "I know you can. I'm not doubting you, its just… I'm not so sure I want to put you through this for that long."

Tim smiled at the almost affectionate statement. "I'll be fine. Like I said, I might not be here any longer than planned."

Finally, after studying his agent again (Tim still had no clue as to what those cold blue eyes were looking for), he nodded. "Alright, but Tony's hate me when he finds out."

Tim had to stop himself from rolling his eyes. "Yeah, I'm so sure."

Gibbs gave him a hard look. "He will. He's worried; they all are, like I said before. Actually, the only reprieve I'm going to get from him is the 20 minute drive back to base." Gibbs sighed at the disbelieving look in Tim's eyes. "Have faith in your team. They have it in you." With a final nod, he began to move towards the door.

"Wait," Tim said softly. "I think I might have something for the team to look into." Gibbs turned back and waited expectantly. "Well," Tim said, not really prepared, "I notice today that even though Connie has that bodyguard, Kyle, he disappears from time to time. It's not that I just lose track of him," he said quickly, justifying himself even though Gibbs hadn't questioned him, "but I think he leaves. He seems to be around when Connie is moving from place to place, acting as a chauffeur, but once we're settled he goes missing." Tim licked his dry lips before continuing. "I'd like to know if he's just hiding in the shadows or if he's off somewhere else."

Gibbs nodded. "Good work, McGee," he said shortly, but his words set that small bubble of pride in Tim's chest afloat. "Now, we'd better get back before your *mistress* begins to wonder what we're up to." He chortled heartily, as he opened the door, at the blush that crept up Tim's cheeks.

They found that Connie had indeed returned and was looking over the contract once more. She smiled as the two reentered the main room. "So, are we agreed?"

Gibbs nodded and pulled a pen out of his jacket. "We're agreed." He picked up the contract and wrote in the empty line that the contract was for one year. He scooted the page up and lowered the pen to the line waiting for his signature. Without looking at Tim, the pen slid over the paper. He handed the pen to Connie, who also signed quickly. Then, the pen was handed to Tim.

He moved his hand down to the paper, but paused. He was wrong when he thought Gibbs was signing his life away. No, *Tim* was the one giving it away. For a year he was giving up his freedom, his life. But it wasn't just that. He was signing himself away: not just his body, but his identity. The moment the ink set on the paper, he was no longer Timothy McGee. Timothy Malcolm would have officially taken over. Tim had to hold back a grin. He hated the McNicknames Tony gave him at the expense of his last name, so why did he feel so sentimental about letting it go? Pushing these thoughts from his mind, pushing away the doubts and the fears, pushing away his life, Tim lowered his hand.

x.x.x.x.x

_Lehcar: Fail chapter… meant for it to be longer, but I lost my muse._

_Mike: I was right across the computer screen the whole time XD_

_Lehcar: Not you, you idiot! Anyways, maybe if I get lots of reviews my muse will return?_

_Mike: Doesn't that kind of conflict with what you told me at the end of the last chapter?_

_Lehcar: Shut up, Mike. Well, leave a review anyways. At the very least it makes me smile._

_Mike: But if you give her hard critiques it gives me an excuse to hug Ms. Stoic Lehcar, to *comfort* her._

_Lehcar: (Please Physical Therapy gods, make my hands better so I can get rid of him!)_


	8. Chapter 8

_Lehcar: Great news!_

_Mike: Terrible news…_

_Lehcar: It's wonderful and joyful._

_Mike: It's sad and depressing. _

_Lehcar: Don't mind him! He's just pouting 'cause his usefulness has passed! I can finally type again! Well, I've been able to type, but only like 25 words per minute. Now I'm much faster!_

_Mike: I think you still need me. _

_Lehcar: For what? _

_Mike:…Witty banter…? _

_Lehcar: My stories were doing just fine before, so I'm sure they'll be just fine without our "conversations"._

_Mike: Whatever…_

_Disclaimer: Lehcar owns no part of NCIS. If she did,she might just keep me around as her lackey._

_Lehcar: Well, if you REALLY want to be my lackey…_

x.x.x.x.x

Tim had never, in all his years, seen a house this big. Scratch that: the building outside his car window was too huge to be considered a house. It was a mansion, a palace, a place for royalty: it was his new home. The wide entrance was framed by stately columns, and a large, sweeping set of steps led up to the giant double doors. He tried hard not to gape as the car drove up the driveway through the twenty large oaks that lined the pavement. The simple white of the estate spoke of a time long past and gave off the air of riches and elegance.

"Do you like it?" Connie asked. Tim tore his eyes from his window to give a grin to her.

"It's beautiful," he admitted. Then he shifted slightly as he said, "But not nearly as beautiful as what I see now."

Connie returned his smile before taking his hand. Tim prayed that the heat in his cheeks was from the heat inside the car. "You know," Connie purred, leaning in closer to Tim, "you really are adorable when you blush." Damn it! So much for the heat theory. It was only for a few seconds that she remained so close, but every second made Tim more and more nervous. Fortunately – for Tim anyways—the car came to a stop in front of the sweeping entrance way.

Even though Tim knew the chauffer normal did this, he slid out of his seat to open the door and offered his hand to Connie. "If I may?"

"Thank you," she murmured as she let her feet touch down gently on the ground. She stood, gently shaking the wrinkles out of her skirt, and turned to the driver. "Please deliver my and Mr. Malcolm's bags to our respective rooms," she ordered briskly. The driver nodded his understanding, and Connie turned on her heel towards the steps. Tim let her lead him without a comment. Even though he knew he should be focusing somewhat on his "employer", he allowed himself to indulge in examining the detailed carvings on the stonework of the building. Even though he had never been too fascinated in architecture himself, he could not deny that the intricate patterns and images caught his slight artistic streak. As they reached the top of the steps, Tim turned his head slightly to examine the back sides of the coloumns. The sight that greeted him made his nerves tighten.

Behind four of the eight columns were large guards: large impressive men with their jackets opened slightly to expose the guns clipped to their belts. If Tim had been suspicious of the security booth at the entrance to the grounds, the sight of four heavily armed guards certainly set him on edge. With a quick glance around, he now looked past the aesthetic beauty of the stone to spot no less than three motion sensors and security cameras cleverly hidden amongst the intricate scrollwork. He must have slowed down a good bit because Connie turned to give him a quizzical look.

"Tim?" she questioned. When she noticed his gaze trained on the men, she gave him a reassuring smile. "Oh, don't mind them. My family employs a private security force."

Tim furrowed his eyebrows slightly at her. "Why?"

She gave a small tilt of her head. "We had a few break-ins a few years back, costing my family several prized possessions. Besides," she smiled lightly, "better safe than sorry." She gave his hand a gentle tug and led him into the house. Tim didn't let a frown reach his face, but her words worried him. The security he'd seen so far wasn't just to keep someone out, but seemed to him like it was there to keep something *in*. With that scared thought, he nervously allowed himself to be pulled inside.

Immediately they were greeted by a young woman with stark black hair and a tiny waist. "Miss Malloy!" she said in a small but happy voice. "Welcome back. I see your venture was successful," she said as she turned a chocolate eye on Tim.

"Yes. Timothy, this is Kristen Keys. She is my personal business assistant. If you ever need to know anything, she's the one to ask."

Kristen let out a small giggle. "Business or gossip, I'm your go to girl!"

Tim nodded at her, "Pleasure to meet you." Silently he reminded himself that if she really did know everything that went on around this place, she would be a good person to keep an eye on.

Kristen let out another small giggle. "Yes, well, I'm sure Miss Malloy will enjoy your stay here." Tim's eyes widened at her wording, but the young woman turn her attention back to Connie. "Mr. Tottori's office in New York called. The silk shipment…"

Tim found himself tuning the conversation out as he looked around the room. Unlike the outside, here he saw no obvious signs of security. Correction, he only saw one sign. Kyle was standing, half hidden, in a doorway of to the side. Tim once again pondered the bodyguard's timing. He never saw the man out in public, but here and at the hotel he had never been to far from his protectorate.

"Tim?"

His name pulled him back to the present. "Hmm?" he said, looking back to Connie.

"Are you alright?" she asked. "You seemed to be studying something."

Quickly Tim threw his mind around the room for an answer. "Oh. Sorry. I was just admiring the metal work around the room. The style, is it Spanish Brass?"

Connie cocked an eyebrow at him. "Yes, it is. I'm impressed you recognized the craftsmen's ship." Tim inwardly smiled. Score for the Antiques Roadshow. "Anyways, I have some business to attend to. Kyle can show you to your room."

"Yes, ma'am," Tim said. When she gave him a look, he took her hand and (shyly) kissed it in apology. "Sorry. 'Good habits, once established are just as hard to break as bad habits'."

Gently, Connie took her hand back with a smile. "Robert Puller. Interesting choice. Well, I shall see you later today. If I am not busy with work, perhaps I will have you join me for lunch. Until then, feel free to explore the house and grounds. Just remember," she said with the icy tone he had only heard once before, "don't go where you don't belong. I've spent too much money to just let you go, so I would have to find another way to correct your mistake. Don't let it come to that." Tim nodded solemnly, and she smiled. "Good. I hope you find your room acceptable. Goodbye for now." Without a look back, she exited the main foyer with Kristen behind her.

"Well, she obviously doesn't want to find something," Tim said under his breath. "I just hope that whatever she's hiding isn't what I'm looking for." For a second he just blinked. He hadn't even thought as he said that, it just came out. It would do him no good to get his personal thoughts and opinions mixed in with this case. _You're an escort, Tim,_ a small voice reminded him. _It's going to get *real* personal at some point._ He chose to ignore the voice as he heard someone clear his throat. He turned to see Kyle looking at him expectantly.

"You coming or what?" the large man said irritably.

"Right," Tim coughed. "Coming."

He followed the guard through the mansion to a series of hallways that led off a main passage. At the end of each mini hallway was a door. Tim was led the door set in the hall next to the longest branch. "This will be your room," Kyle grunted. "The Miss's room is in the next way." He opened the door and motioned Tim through.

Tim shouldn't have been surprised. The entirety of this house was classically outrageous. Tim took a few minutes to explored the rooms he had been given. There was a small sitting area directly inside the door, almost like a foyer. The only other door led off to a large bedroom, with what appeared to be a queen sized poster-bed. To one side was a full bath, and on the other was a huge walking closet. _Again, this place is the size of my apartment,_ Tim thought ruefully. Suddenly, he was hit with a soft wave of longing. For all the extravagance of the suit, he knew he was going to miss his own apartment. There was home, here was merely a place to dwell. With a soft sigh, he fetched his bags from where he saw them in the sitting area to unpack.

As he unzipped the first of two cases, a voice struck out behind him. "So, I heard you're not too keen on JAG."

Tim jumped and whipped around. There, leaning against the entranceway, was Kyle. During his exploration, Tim had forgotten about him. In his surprise it took him a moment to work out what the man had said. "Where did you hear that?" he asked coolly. Well, as coolly as he could.

Kyle shrugged. "The luncheon. That girl mentioned her father, the JAG guy, and you were pretty tense for a moment. Then after that you seemed eager to avoid that topic." Kyle smirked. "I just figured you had a problem with them."

"I have no problem with JAG, exactly," Tim said. As he turned back to his suitcase, he decided to bait the man. "The Navy, however…"

"Oh, harboring a little ill will towards the Navy?" Kyle asked slyly.

Tim threw him a look over his shoulder. "Why do you want to know?"

The bodyguard shrugged. "No reason. I'm just interested to hear other people's opinions on our military."

"Well, it's not the entirety of the Navy I mind, I suppose," Tim commented as he laid out his shirts. "My old man was in the Navy, so I grew up on different bases. I guess you could say that because of them I didn't have an ideal childhood." Again Tim gave his companion a suspicious glance. "And again, why do you want to know?"

"I have my reasons." Kyle shifted his shoulders as he replied, "I suppose you could say I have my own issues with the Navy as well."

"What happened," Tim asked, trying to get as much out of Kyle as he could without pushing.

The smirk on the large man's lips turned cold. "Let's just say the Navy doesn't hand our second chances." He stretched and turned towards the main door. "Nice chat. Have fun during your stay." With that unusual conversation ending, he left.

Tim found himself staring after the man for a few minutes. "That was weird," he muttered to himself. Every time he interacted with the man, a wary feeling crept into his chest. Unfortunately, that wasn't even beginning of enough to get that man arrested. Suggestions and creepiness weren't crimes, so all he had were his suspicions. With that, he turned back to his unpacking.

An hour later his clothes were all sorted away, and his few personal items with safely stowed in the nightstand. He hadn't heard from Connie yet, so he assumed he was still free to explore. Suddenly, as he stepped back out into the wide main hallway, he wished that he had been given a tour of the building first or at least left a guide. He vaguely remembered coming down the hallway, and chose to go in that direction.

15 minutes later he began to wonder if it would have been batter to just stay in his room. He had gotten turned around in the maze of hallways and staircases (he swore every floor looked exactly the same as the last) and now had no idea where he was. Somehow he had wound up in an area of the house that didn't look nearly as fancy as the rest of the estate, and he worried he had somehow wound up in an area he wasn't supposed to be. There were only three doors off the current hallway he was in, and two were locked. If he was Ziva, or he had more time, he might have tried to do a bit more looking around and pick the locks. But no: he still couldn't pick a lock, and he didn't want to try something so risky so soon. He would, however, come back to these rooms eventually. Now, however, he was trying to decide if he should risk going through the third door or hightail it back up the stairs he had just come down.

Just as he made it back up the stairs and closed the stairwell door, he felt a hand grip his shoulder and a second grip his neck…

x.x.x.x.x

_Lehcar: Heh… Sorry to leave it there, but I promised myself I would update and I'm really sleepy. Anyways, I hope the story hasn't dragged too much so far. It will really pick up in the next chapter (or so I hope). Now, speaking of dragging…_

_Mike: Good-bye cruel world! Your cold embrace leaves me with an iced heart as I take my parting from you!_

_Lehcar: Dude, you're not dying. You're not even leaving! You live in the same dorm as me! I'll see you every day._

_Mike: But… but your readers will miss me…_

_Lehcar: I know, but they'll be okay._

_Mike: Well, goodbye readers, goodbye , and goodbye to __Sazzita__, who I hope will miss my wittiness. _

_Lehcar: You're so melodramatic. Anyways, please review. I really, really love reading them._

_Mike: …and maybe in those reviews, you can protest my departure… if there's enough demand, Lehcar will HAVE to keep me!_

_Lehcar: Fat chance… until the next time!_

_Mike: …I don't have a next time…_


	9. Authors Apology

Hey guys.

Listen, I'm sorry about being such a flakey writer. I really do love this story, and want to finish it, but a lot has come up recently. I promise that no matter what, I will finish this story! Thanks for bearing with me!

Please keep reading and reviewing. Thanks!

Lehcar


	10. Chapter 9

Hi…

Yes, I know, I've been gone...

Yes, I know for a long time…

Yes, I have an excuse…

No, I'm not going to tell you what it is…

Yes, I'm very sorry for taking so long…

So, now onto the story, where we shall finally get Tim out of that hallway he's been stuck in for months.

x.x.x.x.x

"Who are you," a calm voice whispered in Tim's ear.

Tim swallowed, hard, and tried to keep himself calm. More than that, he had to fight all the instincts he had developed as an agent that were screaming at him to throw the captor off: that reaction was certainly not the reaction of a mild mannered escort. "Tim. Tim Malcolm. I'm Ms. Malloy's new escort."

"If that's true, then why aren't you off escorting her?" the voice, definitely male, growled.

"She dismissed me for a few hours," Tim replied nervously.

"Did she now?" was the sarcastic reply.

"Yes," Tim replied cautiously. "She said she would call for me for lunch." He tried to breathe slowly, trying to get as much oxygen in his lungs as possible, while he still could.

"So, what were you doing down there?" the voice asked. By this time, Tim had notice the faintest of accents in the voice, but he couldn't tell where it was from. "I'm sure the Mistress made you well aware of the areas you were not allowed in."

"Actually," Tim said with a slightly scratchy voice as the hand tightened around his neck, "she didn't."

"Hmm," the voice said. "I will have to speak to Miss Malloy about this later." The hands quickly released Tim, and he jerked away. He spun around and faced his attacker.

What he saw was not what he expected.

The man was three inches shorter than him, and very thin. His long gold hair, pulled back in a stylish ponytail, was highlighted by the black polo and kakis he wore. His blue eyes set in a long, thin face sparkled at Tim from tanned skin. Overall, the man hardly had the look of a "bad guy".

"Who are you?" Tim asked warily, rubbing his neck gently.

The man chuckled. "Je suis désolé," he said politely. "I am Olivier Lecuyer: Ms. Malloy's head of the estate. But please, call me Olivier" He eyed Tim rubbing his neck and gave a sympathetic smile. "I apologize for the scare, but I was not expecting to find anyone in this part of the house. Do you require ice?"

Tim was a little disconcerted by the sudden change in character. Olivier had gone from intimidating and questioning to polite and concerned. "Uh… no. I'm… fine." He gave glance to the door behind him. "So, what's down there?"

Olivier eyed the door as well, and a slight darkness replaced the sparkle in his eyes. "A storage area for the security team," he said lightly. "It is one of the many areas on the estate that is off limits to… visitors." His eyes brightened once again as they turned back to Tim. "Well, until the Mistress calls for you, how would you like a tour of the house and grounds?"

With a slight sigh of relief, and a little trepidation, Tim nodded. He was still wary of this new face, but he had just been offered an excellent opportunity. "Yes, please!" He would have an easier time investigating if he knew the layout of the estate. Considering he'd wasted the past half hour being lost, having a guide would make sure he didn't get turned around again.

"Wonderful!" the man replied in his lisped accent. "Follow me!

.-.-.

By that evening, Tim was thoroughly impressed. The estate was huge. He realized that it was one thing to read about the financial assets of another, and quite a different experience to see those assets in real life. The entire tour, which included the plantation's mansion, an athletic arena, a stable that housed a full team of horses and staff, several greenhouses, as well as the fields of cash crops, took nearly four hours. Tim was exhausted by the end, but grateful for the opportunity. Not only had he gained a better feel for the layout of the estate, he had seen several areas that may or may not peak NCIS's interest.

First, he was right to be suspicious of the "security" around this place. At every path crossing, every building corner, and nearly every perimeter there was a guard on duty. Like the guards stationed behind the columns of the house, every man was heavily armed. Unlike the men at the house, however, these guards wore what almost appeared to be full armor. At the very least everyman seemed to have a bullet proof vest on. Tim was quick to realize that it would be hard for him to sneak around anywhere on the premises.

But not all of the security was so obvious. Cameras were hidden in some of the most peculiar places, such as hidden within the green walls of the hedges lining the graveled paths. Unless someone was trained to spot such things (as Tim was) then it was possible they would never be noticed. Another subtly that alarmed Tim were the delicate wires that ran over the length of the metal fencing that encases the private grounds of the estate, separating them from the fields. If anyone were to touch those wires, it was a high possibility that they would not live to make the same mistake twice.

What bothered Tim the most about all this security was he couldn't figure out *why*! There wasn't anything remotely suspicious about the grounds except for the high level security. If the Malloy's truly did have something to hide, they weren't doing a very good job. The protections placed here seemed to Tim like they would attract more attention than dissuade it.

Of course, what he saw in the greenhouses made Tim wonder if that wasn't exactly what the Malloy's wanted. The plants inside ranged from tropical trees to exotic flowers. Had Tim had more of a green thumb, he was sure he would have been incredibly impressed with the display of horticulture magnificence. But none of these things were what drew his attention. What he had focused on was the sheer amount of bamboo that lined the rows of the houses. While the casual observer might wonder why such a bland plant was placed, in such abundance, here among such exotics, Tim understood right away.

It was a known fact that the FBI used light signature scans to locate illegal marijuana fields based on the signature given off by the plants. One of the problems with this system, however, was the bamboo gave off the exact same signature. To have so many bamboo plants lined up so innocently like this, Tim knew exactly what message the Malloy's were conveying to the FBI: "_We know you're watching us. Come after us if you dare."_

Tim had to swallow back his rising nerves. If the Malloy's knew so easily who was watching, and were so effortlessly *taunting* them, how long would it be before Tim wound up deeper than he could handle?

.-.-.

Tim was still worrying over what he had seen when he and Olivier returned to the Mansion. Ideas and suspicions ran wild through his head, and he was paying less and less attention. Later he would look back and find it amazing he had been able to follow his guide without knocking into anything. He was so lost within his own mind that when a hand gripped his shoulder (for the second time that day), he jumped nearly a foot in the air.

"Calm down, mon ami," Olivier chuckled at him. "I was simply trying to inform you that Miss Connie has requested that you join her on the Rose Pavilion for a late lunch."

Tim let out a little huff of air at his own jumpiness. "Right," he mumbled, embarrassed.

"Well then," Olivier smiled crookedly, "come. We do not want to keep Miss Malloy waiting." He led Tim back out of the house to a large garden that Tim was certain had to be set up as a maze. The winding paths ran deep into the garden, framed on every side by tall, flowered hedges. Eventually, the walls opened wide to reveal a secluded, rounded area surrounded by rose bushes. In the center was a white marble gazebo, set with a wrought iron table and chair. Perched upon one of the two chairs, a queen upon her throne was Connie.

She smiled, brushing back her mane of red hair. "Hello Tim. Care to join me for lunch?"

Tim returned her smile and nodded, trying to force back his previous worries and the vexation he felt at her words. _"Care to join me"? You say that as if you didn't order me here. _"Of course," he merely replied, taking his seat across from her.

"Do you like salads?" Connie asked, reaching to delicately pick up her glass of iced tea.

"Uh, well, I supposes," Tim stumbled over his words, thrown by the sudden question.

"Good." The question was explained when a servant, seemingly to have appeared straight through one of the hedges, stepped forwards and placed two salads on the table in front of them. Tim grinned, realizing he should have expected as much. He waited until Connie had sampled her own meal before perusing his dish: a tender chicken and pecan salad.

"So, how do you find your new quarters?" Connie asked mildly.

"Oh, everything is great," Tim replied. "I didn't expect the estate to be quite so… big."

"Get lost, did you?" Connie teased.

Tim felt his bottom lip pout out. "I did not get lost. I was simply turned around."

"I'm afraid that that's what it means to get lost."

Tim sighed in defeat. "I'm sure I would have found my way eventually."

"Well, be that as it may, I'm glad Olivier gathered you up before you found yourself in trouble. And how did you like your tour of the rest of the grounds?"

Tim frowned for a fraction of a second. Olivier had been with him the whole time, and he had not spoken to Connie except for a few seconds when she summoned him. How on earth did she know about all that, then? "He did an excellent job showing me around, and I really appreciate it. At least now I think I can find my way without getting turned around again."

"Without getting lost again, you mean," Connie chuckled. Tim rolled his eyes, causing Connie to laugh louder. Tim grinned sheepishly. As they ate, Tim found himself drawn farther and farther into the conversation. His worries and the stress he felt seemed, not to go away, but to simply melt into the back of his mind. Just as they had that first night, the two easily slipped into conversation, lightly broaching any subject that came to mind. Subtly, Tim kept track of their discussions, cataloging anything he deemed to be important about Connie's personality and personal life. His job was to get close to her, and he figured he needed all the help he could get.

After they had both finished their meals and the dishes had been taken away, Connie leaned on her intertwined hands and studied Tim. The agent, not knowing how else to react, simply looked down at the table, feeling nervous as his mistress's silence grew longer. Eventually, Connie reached across the small table and took Tim's jaw in her hand, tilting his head up. Tim nervously made eye contact, and tried to keep his gaze on her face as she turned his head this way and that. Her other hand came up and ran gently along his hair line, her lips quirking up at the bristle like shortness of his hair.

"Stand up please," she ordered lazily. Tim did as she asked, bringing himself to his full height. He eyed the red-head cautiously as she too stood. She approached him slowly, her feet making only the slightest of whispers against the marble. Her eyes left Tim's face in favor of raking down his front, her hands quickly following. Her finger tips ran down his neck, raising his hairs into gooseflesh. Tim was forced to hold back a grin as her manicured nails found the crook of his neck. Unfortunately she took note of his discomfort, and Tim was not pleased by the smirk she wore at finding his ticklish spot. The lined hands continued their journey south to his shoulder. On each side she smoothed out the cloth of his casual suit and continued to press out the few creases down is arms. Once she reached his wrists she brought his hands up to her eyes. Connie made a slight humming sound as she ran the pad of her finger over Tim's polished, well cared for thumbnail. Whether the hum was judgmental or approving, Tim couldn't tell.

Her hands and eyes returned to his shoulders, but this time they continued downward over his chest. With her palms spread flat, Connie explored his chest, sliding under the jacket to get a better feel over his shirt. She carried on after a moment, letting her hands slide lower and lower. Tim's breath hitched ever so slightly in his throat when her hands trailed over his lower abdomen. Hazel eyes flickered up to meet sea green orbs, and painted red lips once again quirked into a smirk. Tauntingly the fingers travel upwards again, this time smoothing down his sides. Her hands went lower to feel the muscles of his thighs hidden underneath his slacks. She stop there, not able to go any further without having to bend over.

Her hands left him and Tim allowed a small huff of relief leave his lungs. They were done… or so he thought.

To his dismay, Connie slipped around behind him. Tim slid his eyes shut, tightly, as her hands once again returned to his body. She made the same path she had on the front: shoulders, arms, back, and sides. She returned her hands to his shoulders. She once again hummed as she rediscovered the tight knots in-between his shoulders, built up after years and years spent hunched in frustration over keyboards and typewrites. This time it was clear the hum was of disapproval.

Tim opened his eyes as he felt her step back around to face him. Her face was set with a calculating smile. "We certainly have our work cut out for us," she said with amusement.

Tim said nothing, but he did quirk his eyebrows upwards in a wisely unspoken question.

Connie understood and began to explain. "You have an excellent physique. Tall, lithe, athletic. Do you work out?"

"Um, not really ma'am." She raised her own eyebrows at his verbal slip up. He winced. "Sorry… But the most I do is run a few times a week. On occasion Boss makes us go to the gym." That was true enough. He winced as he remembered training hours, and all the times he and Tony flipped a coin to see who had to be Ziva's punching bag that day.

"Well, I suppose that will do for now," she muttered. "We'll have to find a suitable place for you to run. I don't relish the idea of you leaving the compound, so until I think of a solution you will have to be satisfied with the small track the security team uses." She reached out and tugged gently at Tim's shirt. "How many outfits do you have?"

Tim quickly thought back to his sparse luggage. "Perhaps two weeks' worth?"

"Hmm… we'll need to fix that," she said mostly to herself. She wrinkled her nose ever so slightly at his suit. "And your designers. Do you have a tuxedo?"

"Just one."

Connie smiled. "Oh, that's good! Now I *really* have an excuse to take you shopping!"

_What's wrong with Ralph Lauren, Seven, and Fendi? _Tim thought as he looked down at his jacket. He thought those *were* high end designers.

"You also have an excellent posture," Connie commented, bringing Tim's thoughts back to her. "Shoulder's back, back straight, feet firmly planted. Almost as if you learned from the military."

Tim saw an opportunity to bait her, and he took it. "Well, a military man," he muttered almost inaudibly, but he knew she caught it.

Connie's eyed perked up and she eyed his face closely. "You're father?"

Tim set his face neutrally and nodded tightly, hoping she read it as being closed. "NAVY. Estranged now." While that wasn't necessarily true, it had been until only a few months ago. Tim lowered his eyes and looked to the side. "I would rather not discuss it."

Connie searched his face, for what he didn't know, before nodding slowly. "I see," was all she said. "Well, as I said, your posture is superb, but we will need to work on your gait. As you can see, I am a good bit shorter than you," she said with a wiry grin. "While every competent woman can run in heels if needed, we prefer to avoid that at all costs. You will need to learn to pace your speed, and to walk smoothly while you do so. At the moment, you tend to use those long legs of your to simply lope along."

"I do?" Tim asked, feeling more and more insecure as she spoke.

"Yes, but it is adjustable. Now," she said, taking his hands in hers, "there is one last thing I'd like to test before we begin your lessons for today."

"Lessons?" Tim stuttered, but he was cut off (and caught off guard) as she moved her hand to the back of his neck and pulled, bringing his lips to hers.

For several second Tim was frozen. His mind went blank and he merely stood there, dumbfounded, as Connie's soft lips pressed gently against his. He made not movement until he felt Connie chuckle against his lips. She pulled away only slightly, her lips still brushing his. "Alright there, Tim?" she breathed warmly against his mouth. That snapped Tim's mind back into action, and tentatively he placed his hands on her shapely hips and leaned into her. She smiled and let her other hand guide his shoulders as he joined with her. This time both of their lips moved, Connie's patient and guiding, Tim's nervous and cautious. Just before Tim felt like he had to pull away, Connie pressed upwards and harder one last time before drawing back herself.

"Hmmm, lovely," she whispered. Tim smiled shyly, feeling the slightest of blushes crest his cheeks. "At least you know how to kiss a woman who's shorter than you," she said in normal tones. She pulled away completely and began to walk away. "Unfortunately we'll have to work on your confidence. While I do enjoy playing with such innocence, it gets tiresome in the long run. And while I normally prefer to be in charge, I like a man who can dominate a kiss. We can-" she stopped and glanced over her shoulder.

Tim was still in the same spot she had left him, rooted to the marble, eyes wide and blank. She rolled her eyes and beckoned to him. "Well, come along! We've got work to do! We're going to teach you how to properly escort a lady in and out of a venue." She flicked her hair over her shoulder as she continued down the path, disappearing behind the hedges.

Tim made no attempted to follow. Still shocked, he raised his hand to his own lips. Never… he had never met a woman who could act so… so *unaffected* like that! And if he was honest, his pride as a man was slightly wounded. Sure, he wasn't the greatest kisser in the world, but he certainly had never been critiqued! Briefly he wondered if Tony had ever encountered a woman such as Connie. He would have to ask him when-

His spirits crashed further. Asking his partner was impossible. He wasn't allowed to be in contact with anyone from the team except Gibbs. It would be months before he could see anyone from his team, from his old life, again. Sadly, slowly, he made to follow Connie back to the house. As he trailed along the pebbled ground, he found his thoughts turning to his partners, and he wondered how they were spending lives without him.

x.x.x.x.x

So? How's a first (and technically second) kiss as an apology?

Alright, so I want to apologize for real. I actually have two excuses: One, like I said, I shan't be telling, simply because it is personal and I do not wish to share. Two: my muse, I believe, was kidnapped by a second muse that represented a different fandom. For the past several months, my few attempts at writing have been for an entirely different fandom. Sorry to my NCIS readers, but I just recently started to get back into the swing of this story.

I apologize for any French that is thrown in there. I'm planning on only having Olivier use French on occasion, throwing out little phrases into conversation as I know one of my Québécois friends does. If anyone see's anything wrong, please comment and correct me. I am by no means a French expert (and neither is my Canadian friend. Québécois and French are quite a bit different.)

PS: For those who are wondering along with Tim how the rest of the team is faring in their first week without McGee, the next chapter will focus on the group back at NCIS. Hopefully my next update won't take four months :P


	11. Chapter 10

_Hey guys! I'm back. Anyways, I actually have an excuse this time! I'll tell you more about it at the end of the chapter. For now, enjoy reading!_

_Oh, this chapter focuses on the team, starting the night Gibbs gets back after meeting with McGee and Malloy._

_Disclaimer: I do not own any part of NCIS, including characters mentioned in the following story._

x.x.x.x.x

**Tuesday Evening**

Whatever conversation had been going on between the figures huddled around Tim's empty desk was cut short as Gibbs walked into the room. He ignored his team, plus Ducky, and sat down at his desk. He pulled out his badge and gun and laid them in their designated drawer. He continued to ignore the others, even as the silence from the near empty squad room pressed down on him. Gibbs pulled the case file that had been left out for him over and began to read. He waited to see who would break first.

A soft rustle as someone shifted, but no other sounds. Someone, most likely Ducky, cleared his throat. Still Gibbs didn't look up. A grunt of impatience signaled that Tony had reached his limit.

"So?" Tony asked, his voice sounding irritated.

Gibbs glanced up at the expectant faces. "What?"

Tony looked as if he was resisting the urge to roll his eyes. "So, how did everything go? How's McSpy doing?"

Gibbs leaned back in his chair, face expressionless. "He's fine."

Ziva stepped closer to his desk. "Where is he? He did not return with you last night."

"You were there. Tony was watching. You know what happened."

"Where is he now?" Ziva asked curtly.

"With Malloy." Gibbs replied to each of her questions with the same amount of shortness.

"So everything went fine?" Tony asked, the smallest hint of relief playing at the corners of his lips.

Ducky, however, noticed the strain on Gibbs' face. "Jethro," he said gently. "What happened?"

"Nothing: Malloy signed the contract, she's taking McGee back to the plantation tomorrow, and we've got this assignment underway."

"Jethro…" Ducky pressed gently.

Gibbs sighed. Ziva, Tony, and Ducky exchanged alarmed looks. "Unless McGee gets this case wrapped up quick, he could spend up to a year with Malloy."

Ducky looked concerned, Ziva's expression relaxed, but Tony's jaw dropped. "A year," the younger man croaked. "A whole year? You're… you're kidding, right?" Gibbs raised an eyebrow, but Tony plowed on. "Boss, are you sure about that? I mean, did you let McGee make that decision?"

The Senior Agent frowned and stood. "Of course it was his decision. He wanted the chance, I let him."

"But-"

"We did what we could," Gibbs stated firmly. "It was either let him do it or call off the whole thing. McGee said he could do it, so we're gonna let him. We clear?"

"But-"

A smack resounded through the office, leaving Tony's head stinging. Gibbs eyed him steadily. "I said: Are we clear?"

"Crystal, Boss," Tony grumbled.

"Good." He glared at the others. Ducky was giving him a look that said he wanted to speak with him, but Ziva still said nothing. Gibbs shook his head and headed out to get a coffee. "Go home. We can't do anything else tonight."

Once he was out of sight, Tony raised his hand to rub his head. "Man, that one hurt," he moaned. He glared in the direction Gibbs had left. "Anyone else get the feeling Boss doesn't like this whole thing anymore than I do?"

"Something is troubling him," Ducky admitted. "But I doubt that we are going to get any more out of him tonight. Therefore, I bid you both goodnight." He nodded to the agents and headed towards the elevator, a troubled look still present on his countenance.

Tony rolled his eyes, but Ziva merely shrugged. "Gibbs is right. We have much work to do. McGee will need as much help from us as he can get if he is to survive this."

The Italian man shook his head. "Oh, but according to Gibbs, McGee is just fine!" he grumbled. Whether Ziva chose to ignore him, or she agreed with his sentiment, Tony couldn't tell.

.-.-.

**Wednesday**

They were taunting him. Just sitting there, so innocently. Tony's hands itched, wanting to pick them up, but he resisted. He knew they would do him absolutely no good. If anything, they would just get him in trouble. As he glanced at them again, however, his resolve cracked. He reached into his drawer, grabbed a paper ball, and hurled it across the room.

Ziva, instead of catching it, simply swatted it and sent it flying back into its owners face. Tony let out an unmanly squeak as the ball unexpectedly bounced off his forehead. He sighed. "You're no fun."

Ziva rolled her eyes. "I can be 'fun' when I wish to be, Tony," she explained. "However, at the moment I am trying to work."

"So am I!" Tony cried, his hand inching towards another projectile. "I'm 'working' on perfecting my aim from this angle." He launched another ball at the Israeli, but she merely tilted her head to the side, allowing the paper wad to pass her harmlessly. Tony pouted at her as she smirked.

"What happened to all that talent you boast of?"

Tony snorted. "Even the best player will miss a shot if he's not prepared. You're a new target, and I need to practice!" A third ball made the journey across the room.

This time, Ziva caught it. She glared at him. "Next time you make an attempt, I will retaliate." Tony eyed the multitude of office objects on her desk and wisely dumped the rest of the paper into the trash. "Very good."

Tony sighed and leaned back in his chair, linking his hand behind his head to stare at the ceiling. "But now I'm bored!"

Ziva rolled her eyes as he swung his legs up onto his desk. "If you would shut up and help me locate information on Kyle Parks, perhaps you would not be so bored?"

"But that's what McG-" Tony cut off abruptly as his eyes slid over to the empty desk beside him. His face darkened for a moment, but when he turned back to Ziva, a forced smile was on his lips. "Why can't we just call up another geek to do some techno-magic for us?"

His partner raised her eyebrows at him. "Techno-magic?"

Tony shrugged. "Yeah, like McGeek does. Puts in the information and pops out an answer. I'm sure plenty of guys downstairs can do it. No sense in us wasting time doing the searching when we could actually be tracking this guy down."

The room was silent for a moment. With Ziva staring at him levelly, Tony shifted uncomfortably. In spite of himself, he glanced over once again to Tim's desk. "Is that what you think of McGee's abilities? That he is just another, as you put it, geek?"

"What?" Tony's eyes snapped back to her.

"I do not think I need to repeat myself," Ziva spoke coolly.

"How… How could you think I'd think that?" Tony asked, affronted.

"You seem to think he is replaceable."

Her partner gaped at her for a full five seconds before sputtering out a reply. "Get off it Ziva! McGoo's my bud! The Robin to my Batman, the Trapper to my Hawkeye, the Spock to my Captain Kirk, the… the T.C to my Magnum! Like you could replace that!"

Ziva narrowed her eyes at him. "You have not answered my question."

Tony glared at her, his legs sliding from the desk as he sat up straight. "Alright, Miss Da-vid. No, I don't think McGee's just another computer nerd. No, I don't think he's replaceable. Fact is, when it comes to working with computers, he's better than anyone in this damn building. Okay?"

"But how do you view the rest of him, outside the geekiness?" Ziva pressed. "In every one of your analogies – even though I did not understand all of them – you seemed to place McGee as the lower of the two partners. The… oh, something about kicking them?"

"You mean sidekicks?"

"Yes! Exactly! You consider him your sidekick, do you not?"

Tony pondered this for a moment. "Well, what person doesn't cast themselves as the hero in their own life story?"

"Perhaps, with the way you treat him, McGee also identifies himself as the 'sidekick'," she told him evenly.

"Are you sayin' that-"

"She'd better be saying she found me info on our want-to-be-Seal turned bodyguard," Gibbs growled as he strolled into the bullpen.

"But Boss-"

"Gibbs I-"

"Finish acting like four-year-olds later. Find me something!" The old Marine glared at the two agents. "Now!"

Ziva sent Tony a look before turning back to her computer. The Italian stared at her for a few moments, a dark look shading his features. He only hoped his anger at her hid the seeds of guilt he could feel growing in his chest.

"DiNozzo!"

"Working, Boss."

.-.-.

**Thursday**

Gibbs sipped his coffee irritably as he watched the elevator closely. Every time the doors opened and revealed another NCIS worker his mood darkened. Finally the man he wanted to see stepped out of the car behind several agents.

"Bout damn time you got here," Gibbs growled.

"Nice to see you too, Jethro," Fornell said as he rolled his eyes as he followed Gibbs back to his desk. "Who pissed in your coffee this morning?"

Gibbs merely snorted and glared. He didn't say anything until he was seated behind his desk, frowning as Fornell sat on the corner. "I've got more important things to do than be talking to you," he said lowly.

"Not my fault," the FBI agent argued. "My director is a bit touchy about your man's assignment and he's wants to know how yesterday went."

"It went," Gibbs replied. "What more do you need to know."

"Grumpy today, are we?" Fornell chuckled. "Maybe someone really *did* piss in your coffee."

"Get off it Tobias," Gibbs snapped.

Fornell was quiet a moment, studying his old friend. With a sigh he stood up and walked back to elevator. Gibbs followed without a word. Once they were between floors the switch was flipped. Fornell sipped his own coffee and gave Gibbs a sidelong glance. "What happened?"

"Nothing, everything went fine. Perfect even," Gibbs admitted with a sigh.

"Too perfect?"

"Not quite," Gibbs shook his head. "Malloy asked for Tim for a year."

"Isn't that a good thing?" Fornell asked. "Gives him, and us, more time to nail whoever is running the show."

"Something doesn't feel right about it," was all Gibbs could really say.

"What? Jealous your boy gets to spend "quality time" with such a gorgeous red-head," Fornell snickered into his coffee.

"Tobias…" Gibbs warned.

"I know what you're feeling," Fornell said as he held his hand palm up in defense. "He's the kid, the least experienced. This is his first big assignment out on his own, and you're worried that tripling the length of the original plan will get to his head, freak him out a bit. He'll do fine Jethro."

"He's not just some rookie," Gibbs argued. "He's been with me for seven years."

"No," Fornell conceded, "but he's *your* rookie. I've heard the stories; know 'em better than anyone else outside your team. You hand picked him: pushed his transfer through within a week, had him on your team working cases within another. It's thanks to you that McGee is one of the strongest agents in your agency. I think that because he's one of the best, you're more nervous about this op than any other assignment you've given him. You're just as worried as he is about this mission going haywire. He thinks that if he messes up, you'll never give him another chance. You, on the other hand, think that he'll never *take* another chance. But let me tell you," Fornell said slowly, "and you should know this, but if you try to hover over him, he *will* choke. Give him space, and let him do this. I think you'll be surprised what McGee can turn out."

Gibbs smirked. "He's been on the job less than a week and he's already on task."

Fornell raised an eyebrow. "Really?"

Wordlessly Gibbs handed over the file he had been carrying. Fornell took it with a curious look at Gibbs. He flipped it opened and studied the picture of the broad shouldered man in uniform. "Mean looking one, isn't he?"

"Kyle Peter Parks," Gibbs said, watching as Fornell flipped through the papers. "Navy SEAL recruit, failed to pass the Combat Swimmer skillset and was dropped from the program."

"Think he holds a grudge?" Fornell asked. "That's a bit extreme if he does. Those boys go in knowing the SEAL dropout rate is ninety percent."

"His grandfather was one of the first SEALs in Vietnam," Gibbs explained. "Seems his family's been grooming him since birth to follow in the man's footsteps."

"Those are some big boots to fill," Fornell commented. "Guessing he didn't take it too well when he found out he didn't make the cut?"

"He had to be escorted off the compound after punching out one of the instructors," Gibbs said dryly. "My team finally turned up some this morning. DiNozzo and David are headed down to Chesapeake to speak with his family."

"Hope it turns up something," Fornell said, closing the folder. "I'm guessing it's all just speculation at this point?"

"Nothing concrete," the NCIS agent confirmed. Silence fell between the two agents. Both sipped their coffee, waiting for the other to speak.

Finally Fornell broke the quiet. "He'll be fine, Jethro."

"You seem pretty confident," Gibbs said with a glance. "How do you know?"

Fornell shrugged and started the elevator again. Once it reached the ground floor, he turned and gave his friend a small smirk. "He's one of yours."

.-.-.

**Friday Morning**

Tony stared at the snack machine. He wasn't feeling particularly hungry, but he just had to get away from the bullpen. The air in the squad room was tense today. Yesterday hadn't gone well, as Tony and Ziva's visit to Parks' family hadn't turned up much other than the fact that his parents hadn't been in contact with their son since he was dropped from the SEAL program. Both Tony and Ziva had searched for any sign of Parks, but it seemed as if he had dropped off the world after he left the SEALs, not to be seen or heard from until he was hired by the Malloys. Neither agent had relished telling Gibbs they had turned up nothing. Their failure obviously annoyed Gibbs, so both agents were trying their hardest to lay low.

Unconsciously, Tony pressed a button on the machine and waited for his snack to drop down. Almost without thinking, he grabbed the plastic package and sat down in one of the many chairs scattered around the break room. He tore open the packaging and took a bite of one of the cookies inside. His eyebrows rose as he tasted peanut butter. With a surprised glance he studied the cookie: a half-eaten Nutter-Butter lay innocently in his palm. He grinned as he popped the rest of the snack in his mouth.

His thoughts turned to Tim as he enjoyed his snack. Was the younger man ok? How was he adjusting to life as an escort? Was he missing the team yet? Tony swallowed thickly at his next though: would Tim even miss him at all?

Tony had been in shock Tuesday when Gibbs had returned from his meeting with Malloy and informed the team that Tim might be gone for a year. A whole year. It would be the longest they had ever gone without seeing each other, without even communicating. Even when Tony was an agent afloat they had been able to talk once or twice over video, and a handful of other times through email. Now the most contact Tony could have with his partner of seven years was a few words passed through Gibbs.

He shook his head of his depressing thoughts. Tony DiNozzo did *not* do depressed unless he had indulged in copious amounts of alcohol. He shoved another cookie into his mouth, and promptly chocked on it as a hand clapped his shoulder.

"There you are," Jimmy said lightly, oblivious to Tony's coughing. "I've been looking for you."

"Palmer!" Tony gasped. "Don' do that or you might be seeing me on a table in your dungeon downstairs!"

Jimmy gave him an apologetic look. "Sorry Tony. Didn't mean to startle you. And hopefully it's a long time before you end up in the morgue. Although," he said, suddenly looking thoughtful, "I would be fascinated to examine your lungs after you die. Few doctors have witnessed lungs damaged by y-pestis. I suppose the scars would be similar to the damaged produce by severe pneumonia, seeing as the y-pestis developed into pneumonia, but it would be interesting to-" he trailed off at the look on Tony's face. "Uh… sorry…"

"You are so weird," Tony said with an apprehensive look at the younger man. "So, what did you need?"

"Well, you and McGee were so busy arguing last week when you brought Dr. Mallard some paperwork that you forgot to sign some stuff. Since McGee isn't here, I need your signatures."

"Sign on the dotted line?" Tony asked with a smile, taking the stack of papers.

"Actually I think they're solid lines." Ton raised his eyebrow. Jimmy coughed uncomfortably. "Just sign them, please."

"Alright." Tony took the pen he was offered and silently began to put his name on the documents. Five pages later he was done. He lifted his head and hand to return the papers. He frowned at the look the autopsy assistant was giving him. "Something catch your eye, Gremlin?"

Jimmy frowned right back. "You feeling ok, Tony?"

"Peachy…" Tony sighed. "Why?"

"You look… stressed."

"So?"

Jimmy swallowed and nearly took a step back at the tone Tony used. "Uh… it's just…" He swallowed again and seemed to harden his resolve. "I've seen you tense when a case is tough, I've seen you nervous when Agent Gibbs is in a mood, and I've even seen you sad and upset when Agents have died, but… I've never seen you look *stressed* before." He gave Tony a sympathetic look. "What's up?"

Tony sighed and ran his hand through his hair. "Nothing. I'm just being an idiot."

Jimmy grabbed another chair and straddled it, facing the older man. "Tell me about it."

Tony scoffed. "No thanks." When Jimmy didn't move, just stared, he sighed. "Fine. I'm not stressed. I'm just… concerned."

"About what?" Jimmy asked patiently. Tony opened his mouth, but quickly bit his lip. Jimmy smiled. "Let me guess. It's McGee, isn't it?"

"No," Tony said tartly. Jimmy merely adjusted his glasses and gazed over the rims, much like Ducky was prone to do. Tony let out a little huff of air. "Fine. Yes. It's Tim. So? I'm just worried. Just a bit, ya know?"

Jimmy nodded sagely. "What's there to be worried about? He's a good agent. You know that: probably better than anyone else knows. I mean," the medical assistant chuckled, "he's Gibbs picked and DiNozzo trained."

"I didn't have anything to do with it," Tony mumbled, leaning back and looking at the ceiling. His eyes lowered again when he heard a snort. He was greeted with the sight of a grinning Jimmy. "What?" he asked irritably.

"A modest DiNozzo," he joked. "Wish I had a camera." He merely chuckled when he received a glare. "Don't be so… well, un-Tony. Take pride in what you've done for McGee. From what I hear, Gibbs may have picked him, but you're the one that took him under your wing."

"But what if he doesn't get that, Jimmy?" Tony said, suddenly sitting up and leaning on his elbows towards Jimmy. "What if Ziva's right, and Tim sees all the crap I put him through as me just looking down on him?"

Jimmy rolled his eyes. "Wow… ok, um… let me try to explain this. When Gibbs smacks you, do you take it as a personal insult?"

Tony blinked. "Uh… no?"

"Right. When you and Tim correct Ziva, does she get mad?"

"Well, not really angry, just annoyed."

"And when everyone makes fun of me for my driving," Jimmy said with a knowing smile, "I don't really get upset. Do you get what I'm saying?" Tony just looked at him. "I mean: McGee gets that you don't mean it, because that's how you work. Give him some credit. Trust me, if McGee wasn't ok with you teasing him, do you really think he'd just take it?"

Tony was quiet. An echo of Tim's voice rang through his mind. Within his head, Tony once again listened as Tim calmly ordered the mechanics to get his car fixed on time and underprice. He smiled. "Probie doesn't let anyone push him around… not anymore."

Jimmy smiled. "Now you're getting it."

Tony grinned at the younger man. "Thanks Palmer," he said as he stood, clapping him on the shoulder as he passed.

"No problem," Jimmy replied to the retreating agent. He shook his head fondly and returned to his own work.

.-.-.

**Friday afternoon**

Tony had disappeared several minutes ago and Gibbs was nowhere to be found. Ziva was glad for the quiet: the tension resonating from Gibbs' team had had everyone in the squad room on their toes. After a quick glance around, Ziva returned to her work with a contented sigh.

Another minute passed in silence. Ziva shifted uncomfortably. She stretched in her chair and tried to focus back on her work. The clacking of her keyboard was the only sound inside the bullpen, but the quiet hum of the office outside the bullpen pulled her attention away. Ziva shook her head in frustration. Normally these things did not bother her. Once again she forced herself to study her computer screen, willing her mind to concentrate on the task at hand. The silence continued undisturbed.

Ziva pushed away from her desk with a growl. She couldn't focus! No matter how hard she tried to get back to work, she couldn't concentrate. Something was off and it was keeping her from thinking. She glared around the room, letting her eyes sweep over the three empty desks. After a moment they slid back to the middle desk, the only desk that was completely clear.

Now she realized what was wrong. The silence was too great to ignore. Normally jokes, casual conversations, and laughter echoed around the bullpen. Even when the team was deeply engrossed in their work, the slightest sounds from her teammates reached Ziva's ears. There once was a time that Ziva relished any bit of silence she could get, but now it was just too foreign. The chatter of her partners was something she had gotten accustomed to, and now it was obvious how much she had taken it for granted. The banter back and forth between the agents was, in her opinion, the physical representation of the balance of the team. With Tim gone, that balance was no longer there.

Ziva wearily stood from her chair. Perhaps a cup of tea would help her finish her work. She glanced once again at the empty desks. If this void was what Tim's absence caused, perhaps it would not be as easy to survive these next few months as she once thought.

.-.-.

**Friday Evening**

There was music, but it was softer than normal. The beat was as fast as always and the bass rung out just as powerful as normal. The volume was merely turned down to a more normal volume. But whenever Abby Sciuto did anything normally it was a signal something was wrong.

Abby stared her computer, willing it to produce answers she knew would only come after hours of processing. The evidence she had been given only half an hour ago was from Agent Balboa, not her special A-team. Gibbs had not come to speak to her since the previous week. Neither had Tony or Ziva. Her eyes began to tear up as she thought of one more Very Special Agent she hadn't seen in over a week. One that she wouldn't see for the next several months.

With a weary sigh she pushed away from her workspace, spinning in her chair to face the wall. Tacked to the wall, where shrines to her musketeers and Gibbs had once hung, was a picture of Tim. It wasn't his formal NCIS ID photo, though she had considered using it. Instead she chose a candid photo one of the agents (most likely Tony) had snapped off at a crime scene. Tim was facing the camera, but his gaze was fixed on a point beyond the photographer. His shoulders were relaxed but squared, accentuating his height and lithe frame. His eyes shone with a confidence he rarely showed, and a small smirk played on his lips. This confident agent, a young man who was content with his place in the world, was a rare side of Tim. Abby sighed nostalgically, wondering what happened to the terrified kid who stuttered as he asked her to dinner.

Surrounding the picture were four sticky notes, each with a number and a message: "_Please be okay_." "_I miss you_." "_Come home soon_." "_Stay Safe."_

Abby grabbed a pink note off the pad and scribbled on it with a sharpie. She slid off her chair and walked over to the display. After giving the note a quick kiss, she pinned the note to the ever growing collage. A single tear rolled down her cheek. With a swipe of her hand she knocked it away. She spun on her heel, her swinging lab coat causing a breeze to ruffle the new note.

"_Day 5: I'm sorry."_

x.x.x.x.x

_So… what do you think? I'm not satisfied with Ziva's bit, but I'm discovering that she is really hard to write for._

_Anyways, I mentioned before that I actually have an excuse. My boyfriend recently learned of my writing hobby and has requested my help on a project. You see, he's a Dungeon Master (he's such a nerd!) and has asked me to convert his DnD group's gaming campaign into a full-blown story. It's a lot harder than I thought it would be, and it's taking up most of my writing time. I mean, they're not even half-way through the game yet! It's going to take forever to finish._

_Until next time, my beloved readers! Please review?_


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